•  0?i 


ifWv^Vy    //,      rt&t'vrvuQsiJt 


H  Dutcb  Winfrmill. 


HOLLAND. 


BY 

EDMONDO     DE    AMI  CIS, 

Author  of  "Spain,"  "  Mokocco,"  etc. 


TRANSLATED   FROM   THE   THIRTEENTH   EDITION   OF  THE    ITALIAN   BY 

HELEN    ZIMMERN. 

ILLUSTRATED. 
IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 

Vol.  I. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
PORTER    &    COATES. 


Copyright,  1894,  by 
I'ORTER    &    COATES. 


TO 

PIETRO  GROLIER. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Holland     9 

Zealand     29 

Rotterdam 57 

Delft 131 

The  Hague 171 

5 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

VOLUME  I. 


Fhotograplis  taken  expressly  for  this  edition  of  "  Holland"  by  Dr.  Charles 
L.  Mitchell,  Philadelphia. 

Photogravures  by  A.  W.  Elson  &  Co.,  Boston. 

Page 
A  Dutch  Windmill Frontispiece. 

Dutch  Fishing-boats 26 

Dordrecht— Canal  with  Cathedral  in  the  Distance.  48 

In  Rotterdam G4 

Interior  of  the  Church  of  St.  Lawrence 80 

On  the  Meuse,  near  Rotterdam 94 

The  Steiger,  Rotterdam 110 

The  Statue  of  Tollens 12G 

Near  the  Arsenal,  Delft 1«"4 

Monument  of  Admiral  Van  Tromp 140 

Stairway  where  William   the  Silent   was  Assassi- 
nated  IN   THE    PrINSENHOF,    DeLFT IvO 

Refectory  of  the  Convent  of  St.  Agatha,  Delft  .    .  150 

Old  Delft ICG 

On  the  Canal  near  Delft 174 


S  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PA(iE 

The  Binnenhof,  The  Hague 184 

Paul  Potter's  Bull 198 

On  the  Road  to  Sch  evening  en 214 

Fisherman's  Children,  Schevenisgen 228 

The  Main  Drive  in  the  Bosch,  The  Hague 24G 

The  Vyver,  The  Hague 2G2 


HOLLAND. 


HOLLAND. 


One  who  looks  for  the  first  time  at  a  large  map 
of  Holland  must  be  amazed  to  think  that  a  country  so 
made  can  exist.  At  first  sight,  it  is  impossible  to 
say  whether  land  or  water  predominates,  and  whether 
Holland  belongs  to  the  continent  or  to  the  sea. 
Its  jagged  and  narrow  coast-line,  its  deep  bays  and 
wide  rivers,  which  seem  to  have  lost  the  outer 
semblance  of  rivers  and  to  be  carrying  fresh  seas 
to  the  sea;  and  that  sea  itself,  as  if  transformed  to 
a  river,  penetrating  far  into  the  land,  and  breaking 
it  up  into  archipelagoes;  the  lakes  and  vast  marshes, 
the  canals  crossing  each  other  everywhere, — all 
leave  an  impression  that  a  country  so  broken  up 
must  disintegrate  and  disappear.  It  would  be  pro- 
nounced a  fit  home  for  only  beavers  and  seals,  and 
surely  its  inhabitants,  although  of  a  race  so  bold  as 
to  dwell  there,   ought  never  to  lie  down  in  peace. 

When  I  first  looked  at  a  large  map  of  Holland 
these  thoughts  crowded  into  my  mind,  and  I  felt  a 
great  desire  to  know  something  about  the  formation 
of  this  singular  country ;  and  as  what  I  learned 
impelled  me  to  make  a  book,  I  write  it  now  in  the 
hope  that  I  may  lead  others  to  read  it. 

11 


12  HOLLAND. 

Those  who  do  not  know  a  country  usually  ask 
travellers,   "What  sort  of  place  is  it?" 

Many  have  told  briefly  what  kind  of  country 
Holland  is. 

Napoleon  said :  "  It  is  an  alluvium  of  French 
rivers,  the  Rhine,  the  Scheldt,  and  the  Meuse,"  and 
under  this  pretext  he  annexed  it  to  the  Empire. 
One  writer  defined  it  as  a  sort  of  transition  between 
the  earth  and  the  sea.  Another  calls  it  "an  immense 
surface  of  earth  floating  on  the  water."  Others 
speak  of  it  as  an  annex  of  the  old  continent,  the 
China  of  Europe,  the  end  of  the  earth  and  the  be- 
ginning of  the  ocean — a  huge  raft  of  mud  and 
sand  ;  and  Philip  II.  called  it  "  the  country  nearest 
hell." 

But  on  one  point  they  were  all  agreed,  and 
expressed  themselves  in  the  same  words :  Holland  is 
a  conquest  of  man  over  the  sea;  it  is  an  artificial 
country ;  the  Dutch  made  it ;  it  exists  because  the 
Dutch  preserve  it,  and  would  disappear  if  they  were 
to  abandon  it. 

To  understand  these  words  we  must  picture  to  our- 
selves Holland  as  it  was  when  the  first  German  tribes, 
wandering  in  search  of  a  country,  came  to  inhabit  it. 

Holland  was  then  almost  uninhabitable.  It  was 
composed  of  lakes,  vast  and  stormy  as  seas,  flowing 
into  each  other;  marshes  and  morasses,  thickets  and 
brushwood;  of  huge  forests,  overrun  by  herds  of  wild 
horses;   vast  stretches  of  pines,  oaks,  and  alder  trees, 


HOLLAND.  13 

in  which,  tradition  tells  us,  you  could  traverse  leagues 
passing    from  trunk  to  trunk   without    ever    putting 
your  foot  to  the  ground.      The  deep  bays  carried  the 
northern  storms  into  the  very  heart  of  the  country. 
Once  a  year  certain  provinces  disappeared  under  the 
sea,  becoming  muddy  plains  which  were  neither  earth 
nor  water,   on  which  one  could  neither  walk  nor  sail. 
The  large  rivers,  for  lack  of  sufficient  incline  to  drain 
them  into  the  sea,  strayed  here  and  there,  as  if  uncer- 
tain which   road  to  take,  and  then  fell  asleep  in  vast 
pools  amongst  the  coast-sands.     It  was  a  dreary  coun- 
try, swept  by  strong  winds,   scourged  by  continual 
rain,  and  enveloped  in  a  perpetual  fog,  through  which 
nothing  was  heard  save  the  moaning  of  the  waves, 
the  roaring  of  wild  beasts,  and  the  screeching  of  sea- 
fowl.     The  first  people  who  had  the  courage  to  pitch 
their  tents  in  it  were  obliged  to  erect  with  their  own 
hands,   hillocks  of  earth    as    a    protection    from    the 
inundations  of   the   rivers  and   the  invasions  of  the 
ocean,  and  they  were  obliged  to  live  on  these  heights 
like  shipwrecked-men  on  lonely  islands,  descending, 
when   the  waters   withdrew,  to  seek  nourishment  by 
fishing,  hunting,  and   collecting   the   eggs   which  the 
sea-fowl    had    laid  on   the  sands.      Gsesar,    when    he 
passed  by,  gave  the   first  name  to  this  people.      The 
other  Latin  historians  spoke  with  mingled  pity  and 
respect  of  these  intrepid  barbarians  who  lived  on  "  a 
floating  country,"  exposed  to   the  inclemency  of  an 
unfeeling  sky  and  to  the  fury  of  the  mysterious  North 


M  HOLLAND. 

Sea.  Imagination  can  picture  the  Roman  soldiers 
from  the  heights  of  the  utmost  wave-washed  citadels 
of  the  empire,  contemplating  with  sadness  and  wonder 
the  wandering  tribes  of  that  desolate  country,  and 
regarding  them  as  a  race  accursed  of  Heaven. 

Now,  when  we  reflect  that  such  a  region  has 
become  one  of  the  richest,  most  fertile,  and  best- 
governed  countries  in  the  world,  we  understand  how 
justly  Holland  is  called  the  conquest  of  man. 

But  it  should  be  added  that  it  is  a  continuous 
conquest. 

To  explain  this  fact, — to  show  how  the  existence  of 
Holland,  notwithstanding  the  great  works  of  defence 
built  by  its  inhabitants,  still  requires  an  incessant 
struggle  fraught  with  perils, — it  is  sufficient  to  glance 
rapidly  at  the  greatest  changes  of  its  physical  his- 
tory, beginning  at  the  time  when  its  people 
had  reduced  it  to  a  habitable  country. 

Tradition  tells  of  a  great  inundation  of  Friesland 
in  the  sixth  century.  From  that  period  catastrophes 
are  recorded  in  every  gulf,  in  every  island,  one  may 
say,  in  almost  every  town,  of  Holland.  It  is  reckoned 
that  through  thirteen  centuries  one  great  inundation, 
besides  smaller  ones,  has  taken  place  every  seven 
years,  and,  since  the  country  is  an  extended  plain, 
those  inundations  wore  very  deluges.  Toward  the 
end  of  the  thirteenth  century  the  sea  de- 
stroyed part  of  a  very  fertile  peninsula  near  the 
mouth   of  the  Ems   and   laid   waste  more  than  thirty 


HOLLAND.  15 

villages.  In  the  same  century  a  series  of  marine 
inundations  opened  an  immense  gap  in  Northern 
Holland  and  formed  the  Gulf  of  the  Zuyder  Zee, 
killing  about  eighty  thousand  people.  In  1421  a 
storm  caused  the  Mouse  to  overflow,  and  in  one  night 
buried  in  its  waters  seventy-two  villages  and  one 
hundred  thousand  inhabitants.  In  1532  the  sea 
broke  the  embankments  of  Zealand,  destroyed  a 
hundred  villages,  and  buried  for  ever  a  vast  tract 
of  the  country.  In  1570  a  tempest  produced 
another  inundation  in  Zealand  and  in  the  province 
of  Utrecht;  Amsterdam  was  inundated,  and  in  Fries- 
land  twenty  thousand  people  were  drowned.  Other 
great  floods  occurred  in  the  seventeenth  century ; 
two  terrible  ones  at  the  beginning  and  at  the  end 
of  the  eighteenth ;  one  in  1825,  which  laid  waste 
Northern  Holland,  Friesland,  Over-Yssel,  and  Gel- 
dcrland ;  another  in  1855,  when  the  Rhine,  over- 
flowing,  flooded  Gelderland  and  the  province  of 
Utrecht  and  submerged  a  large  part  of  North 
Brabant.  Besides  these  great  catastrophes,  there 
occurred  in  the  different  centuries  innumerable 
others  which  would  have  been  famous  in  other  coun- 
tries, but  were  scarcely  noticed  in  Holland — such  as 
the  inundation  of  the  large  Lake  of  Haarlem  caused 
by  an  invasion  of  the  sea.  Flourishing  towns  of 
the  Zuyder  Zee  Gulf  disappeared  underwater;  the 
islands  of  Zealand  were  repeatedly  covered  by  the 
sea  and  then  again  left  dry ;  the  villages  on  the  coast 


1 6  HOLLAND. 

from  Holder  to  the  mouths  of  the  Meuse  Avcrc  fre- 
quently submerged  and  ruined  ;  and  in  each  of  these 
inundations  there  was  an  immense  loss  of  life  of  both 
man  and  beast.  It  is  clear  that  miracles  of  cour- 
age, constancy,  and  industry  must  have  been  wrought 
bv  the  Dutch  people,  first  in  creating,  and  then  in 
preserving,  such  a   country. 

The  enemy  against  which  the  Dutch  had  to  defend 
their  country  was  threefold — the  sea,  the  rivers,  and 
the  lakes.  The  Dutch  drained  the  lakes,  drove  back 
the  sea,  and  imprisoned  the  rivers. 

To  drain  the  lakes  they  called  the  air  to  their  aid. 
The  lakes  and  marshes  were  surrounded  with  dykes, 
the  dykes  with  canals  and  an  army  of  windmills ; 
these,  putting  the  suction-pumps  in  motion,  poured 
the  waters  into  the  canals,  which  conducted  them 
into  the  rivers  and  to  the  sea.  Thus  vast  areas  of 
ground  which  were  buried  under  water  saw  the  light, 
and  were  transformed,  as  if  by  enchantment,  into 
fertile  plains  covered  with  villages  and  traversed  by 
roads  and  canals.  In  the  seventeenth  century,  in 
less  than  forty  years,  twenty-six  lakes  were  emptied. 
In  Northern  Holland  alone  at  the  beszinninfr  of 
this  century  more  than  six  thousand  hectares  of 
land  were  delivered  from  the  waters,  in  Southern 
Holland,  before  1844,  twenty-nine  thousand  hectares, 
and  in  the  whole  of  Holland,  from  1500  to  1858, 
three  hundred  nnd  fifty-five  thousand  hectares.  By 
the    use    of  s'eam    pumps    instead   of  windmills,   the 


HOLLAND.  17 

great  undertaking  of  draining  the  Lake  of  Haarlem 
was  completed  in  thirty-nine  months.  This  lake, 
■which  threatened  the  towns  of  Haarlem,  Amsterdam, 
and  Leyden  with  raging  storms,  was  forty-four  kilo- 
meters in  circumference.  At  present  the  Hollanders 
are  contemplating  the  prodigious  enterprise  of  drain- 
ing the  Gulf  of  the  Zuyder  Zee,  which  covers  a  space 
of  more  than  seven  hundred  square  kilometers. 

The  rivers,  another  internal  enemy  of  Holland, 
did  not  cost  less  fatigue  or  fewer  sacrifices.  Some, 
like  the  Rhine,  which  loses  itself  in  the  sand  before 
reaching  the  ocean,  had  to  be  channelled  and 
protected  from  the  tide  at  their  mouths  by  im- 
mense locks ;  others,  like  the  Meuse,  were  flanked 
by  large  dykes,  like  those  raised  to  force  back  the 
sea;  others  were  turned  from  their  channels.  The 
wandering  waters  were  gathered  together,  the  course 
of  the  rivers  was  regulated,  the  streams  were  divided 
with  rigorous  precision,  and  sent  in  different  direc- 
tions to  maintain  the  equilibrium  of  the  enormous 
liquid  mass, — for  the  smallest  deviation  might  cause 
the  submersion  of  whole  provinces.  In  this  manner 
all  of  the  rivers,  which  originally  wandered  unre- 
strained, swamping  and  devastating  the  whole 
country,  have  been  reduced  to  streams  and  have 
become  the  servants  of  man. 

But  the  fiercest  struggle  of  all  was  the  battle  with 
the  ocean.  Holland,  as  a  whole,  lies  lower  than  the 
sea-level ;     consequently,     wherever      the      coast    is 


18  HOLLAND. 

not  defended  by  downs  it  had  to  be  protected  by  em- 
bankments. If  these  huge  bulwarks  of  earth,  wood, 
and  granite  were  not  standing  like  monuments  to 
witness  to  the  courage  and  perseverance  of  the  Dutch, 
it  would  be  impossible  to  believe  that  the  hand  of 
man,  even  in  the  course  of  many  centuries,  could 
have  completed  such  an  immense  work.  In  Zealand 
alone  the  dykes  extend  over  an  area  of  four  hundred 
kilometers.  The  western  coast  of  the  island  of 
Walcheren  is  protected  by  a  dyke,  the  cost  of  whose 
construction  and  preservation  put  out  at  interest 
would,  it  is  calculated,  have  amounted  to  a  sum  great 
enough  to  have  paid  for  the  building  of  the  dyke  of 
solid  copper.  Round  the  town  of  Ilelder,  at  the 
northern  extremity  of  Northern  Holland,  there  is  a 
dyke  made  of  blocks  of  Norwegian  granite  which  is 
ten  kilometers  long  and  stretches  sixty  meters  into  the 
sea.  The  province  of  Friesland,  which  is  eighty-eight 
kilometers  long,  is  protected  by  three  rows  of  enor- 
mous palisades  sustained  by  blocks  of  Norwegian  and 
German  granite.  Amsterdam,  all  the  towns  on  the 
coast  of  the  Zuyder  Zee,  and  all  the  islands  which  have 
been  formed  by  fragments  of  the  land  that  has  disap- 
peared, forming  a  sort  of  circle  between  Friesland  and 
Northern  Holland,  are  protected  by  dykes.  From  the 
mouths  of  the  Ems  to  the  mouths  of  the  Scheldt,  Hol- 
land is  an  impenetrable  fort,  in  whose  immense  bas- 
tions the  mills  are  the  towers,  the  locks  the  gates,  the 
islands  the  advanced  forts;  of  which,  like  a  real  for- 


HOLLAND.  19 

tress,  it  shows  to  its  enemy,  the  sea,  only  the  tips  of 
its  steeples  and  the  roofs  of  its  buildings,  us  though 
in   derision  or  in  challenge. 

In  truth,  Holland  is  a  fortress,  and  the  Dutch  live 
as    though    they    were    in    a    fort — always    in    arms 
against  the  sea.     A  host  of  engineers,  dependent  on 
the  minister  of  the  interior,  is  scattered  throughout 
the  land,  disciplined  like  an  army.     These  men  arc 
continually  on  the  alert,  watching  over  the  waters  of 
the  interior,  anticipating  the   rupture  of  the  dykes, 
ordering  and   directing  the   works   of  defense.      The 
expenses  of  this  warfare  are  distributed :   one  part  is 
paid  by  the  state,  the  other  by  the  provinces;  every 
proprietor  pays,  besides  the  general  imposts,  a  special 
tax  on  the  dykes  in  proportion  to  the  extent  of  his 
property  and   to   its  proximity  to   the  waters.     Any 
accidental  breach,  any  carelessness,  may  cause  a  flood  : 
the   danger   is   ever   present.       The  sentinels  arc    at 
their  posts  on  the  ramparts,  and   at  the  first  attack 
of   the    sea,  give    the    war-cry,    whereupon    Holland 
sends   out  arms,   materials,   and   money.     And   even 
when    great    battles     arc    not    in   progress,   a    slow, 
noiseless  struggle   is    ever  going    on.       Innumerable 
windmills,  even  in  the  drained   hikes,  are  continually 
working  to  exhaust  the  rain-water  and  the  water  that 
oozes  from  the  earth,  and  to  pump  it  into  the   canals. 
Every  day  the  locks  of  the  gulfs  and  rivers  shut  their 
gigantic   doors    in    face   of   the  high    tide,   which  at- 
tempts  to  launch  its  billows   into   the    heart   of  the 
Vor..  I.— 2 


20  HOLLAND. 

country.  Work  is  continually  going  on  to  reinforce 
any  weakened  dykes,  to  fortify  the  downs  by  cultiva- 
tion, to  throw  up  fresh  embankments  where  the  downs 
are  low — works  towering  like  immense  spears  brand- 
ished in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  ready  to  break  the 
first  onset  of  the  waves.  The  sea  thunders  eternally 
at  the  doors  of  the  rivers,  ceaselessly  lashes  their 
banks,  roars  forth  its  eternal  menace,  raises  the 
crests  of  its  billows  curious  to  behold  the  contested 
ground,  heaps  banks  of  sand  before  the  doors  to 
destroy  the  commerce  of  the  cities  it  wishes  to  possess; 
wastes,  rasps,  and  undermines  the  coasts,  and,  unable 
to  overthrow  the  ramparts,  against  which  its  impotent 
waves  break  in  angry  foam,  it  casts  ships  laden  with 
corpses  at  the  feet  of  the  rebellious  country  to  tes- 
tify to  its  fury  and  its  strength. 

Whilst  this  great  struggle  continues  Holland  is 
becoming  transformed.  A  map  of  the  country  as 
it  was  eight  centuries  airo  would  not  at  first  sight 
be  recognized.  The  land  is  changed,  the  men  are 
changed.  The  sea  in  some  parts  has  driven  back 
the  coast ;  it  has  taken  portions  of  the  land  from 
the  continent,  has  abandoned  and  again  retaken  it; 
has  reunited  some  of  the  islands  to  the  continent  by 
chains  of  sand,  as  in  Zealand:  has  detached  the 
borders  of  the  continent  and  formed  of  them  new 
islands,  sueh  as  Wieringen  ;  has  withdrawn  from  some 
provinces,  and  has  converted  maritime  cities  into 
inland  towns,  as  at    Leeu warden ;   it  lias  changed  vast 


HOLLAND.  21 

plains  into  archipelagoes  of  a  hundred  isles,  such  as 
the  Bics-Bosch ;  it  has  separated  the  city  from  the  land, 
as  at  Dordrecht.  New  gulfs  two  leagues  wide  have 
been  formed,  such  as  the  Gulf  of  Dollart;  two  pro- 
vinces have  been  separated  by  a  new  sea — namely, 
North  Holland  and  Friesland.  Inundations  have 
caused  the  level  of  the  ground  to  be  raised  in  some 
places,  lowered  in  others ;  unfruitful  soil  has  been 
fertilized  by  the  sediment  of  the  overflown  rivers; 
fertile  ground  has  been  changed  into  deserts  of  sand. 
The  transformations  of  the  waters  have  given  rise  to 
a  transformation  of  labor.  Islands  have  been  joined 
to  the  continent,  as  was  the  island  of  Ameland;  whole 
provinces  are  being  reduced  to  islands,  as  is  the 
ease  with  North  Holland,  which  will  be  separated 
from  South  Holland  by  the  new  canal  of  Amster- 
dam ;  lakes  as  large  as  provinces  have  been  made  to 
disappear,  like  the  Lake  of  Deemster.  By  the  re- 
moval of  the  thick  mud,  land  has  been  converted  into 
lakes,  and  these  lakes  are  again  transformed  into 
meadows.  So  the  country  changes,  ordering  and  alter- 
ing its  aspect  in  accordance  with  the  violence  of  the 
waters  and  the  needs  of  man.  As  one  glances  over 
the  latest  map,  he  may  be  sure  that  in  a  few  years,  it 
will  be  useless,  because  at  the  moment  he  is  studying 
it.  there  exist  bays  which  will  disappear  little  by 
little,  tracts  of  land  which  are  on  the  point  of  detach- 
ing themselves  from  the  continent,  and  large  canals 
which  will  open  and  carry  life  into  uninhabited  regions. 


22  HOLLAND. 

But  Hollanders  did  more  than  defend  themselves 
from  the  water;  they  became  its  masters.  The  water 
was  their  scourge;  it  became  their  defence.  If  a 
foreign  army  invades  their  territory,  they  open  the 
dykes  and  loose  the  sea  and  the  rivers,  as  they  loosed 
them  on  the  Romans,  the  Spanish,  and  the  army  of 
Louis  XIV.,  and  then  defend  the  inland  towns  with 
their  fleets.  Water  was  their  poverty ;  they  have 
made  it  riches.  The  whole  country  is  covered  with  a 
network  of  canals,  which  irrigate  the  land  and  are 
at  the  same  time  the  highways  of  the  people.  The 
towns  communicate  with  the  sea  by  means  of  the 
canals ;  canals  lead  from  town  to  town,  bind- 
ing the  towns  to  the  villages,  and  uniting  the 
villages  themselves,  as  they  lie  with  their  homesteads 
scattered  over  the  plain.  Smaller  canals  surround 
the  farms,  the  meadows,  and  the  kitchen- 
gardens,  taking  the  place  of  walls  and  hedges; 
every  house  is  a  little  port.  Ships,  barges, 
boats,  and  rafts  sail  through  the  villages,  wind 
round  the  houses,  and  thread  the  country  in  all 
directions,  just  as  carts  and  carriages  do  in  other 
places. 

And  here,  too,  Holland  has  accomplished  many 
gigantic  works,  such  as  the  William  Canal  in  North 
Brabant,  which,  more  than  ejffhtv  kilometers  long 
and  thirty  meters  wide,  crosses  the  whole  of  North- 
ern Holland  and  unites  Amsterdam  to  the  North 
Sea :  the  new  canal,  the  largest  in  Europe,  which  will 


HOLLAND.  23 

join  Amsterdam  to  the  ocean,  across  the  downs, 
and  another,  equally  large,  which  will  unite  the 
town  of  Rotterdam  to  the  sea.  The  canals  are  the 
veins  of  Holland,   and  the  water  is  its  blood. 

But,  aside  from  the  canals,  the  draining  of  the 
lakes,  and  the  works  of  defence,  as  one  passes 
rapidly  through  Holland  he  sees  on  every  side 
indications  of  marvellous  labor.  The  ground, — in 
other  countries  the  gift  of  nature, — is  here  the 
result  of  industry.  Holland  acquired  the  greater 
part  of  its  riches  through  commerce,  but  the  earth 
had  to  yield  its  fruits  before  commerce  could 
exist;  and  there  was  no  earth — it  had  to  be 
created.  There  were  banks  of  sand,  broken  here 
and  there  by  layers  of  peat,  and  downs  which 
the  wind  blew  about  and  scattered  over  the 
country;  large  expanses  of  muddy  land,  destined, 
as  it  seemed,  to  eternal  barrenness.  Iron  and  coal, 
the  first  elements  of  industry,  were  lacking  ;  there 
was  no  wood,  for  the  forests  had  already  been  de- 
stroyed by  storms  before  agriculture  began  ;  there  was 
neither  stone  nor  metal.  Nature,  as  a  Dutch  poet 
lias  said,  had  denied  all  its  gifts  to  Holland,  and  the 
Dutch  were  obliged  to  do  everything  in  spite  of  her. 
They  began  by  fertilizing  the  sand.  In  some  places 
they  made  the  ground  fruitful  by  placing  on  it  layers 
of  soil  brought  from  a  distance,  just  as  a  garden  is 
formed;  they  spread  the  rubble  from  the  downs  over 
the   sodden   meadows ;   they  mixed   bits   of  the   peat 


24  HOLLAND. 

taken  from  the  water  with  the  earth  that  was 
too  sandy ;  they  dug  up  clay  to  give  a  fresh  fer- 
tility to  the  surface  of  the  ground;  they  strove  to 
till  the  downs ;  and  thus,  by  a  thousand  varied  efforts, 
as  they  continually  warded  off  the  threatening  waters, 
they  succeeded  in  cultivating  Holland  as  highly  as 
other  countries  more  favored  by  Nature.  The  Hol- 
land of  sands  and  marshes,  which  the  ancients  consid- 
ered barely  habitable,  now  sends  abroad,  year  by 
year,  agricultural  products  to  the  value  of  a  hundred 
million  francs,  possesses  about  a  million  three 
hundred  thousand  head  of  cattle,  and  may  be  rated 
in  proportion  to  its  size  among  the  most  populous 
countries  in  Europe. 

Now,  it  is  obvious  that  in  a  country  so  extra- 
ordinary the  inhabitants  must  be  very  different 
from  those  of  other  lands.  Indeed,  few  peoples 
have  been  more  influenced  by  the  nature  of  the 
country  they  inhabit,  than  the  Dutch.  Their 
genius  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  physical 
character  of  Holland.  When  one  contemplates 
the  memorials  cf  the  great  warfare  which  this 
nation  has  waged  with  the  sea,  one  understands 
that  its  characteristics  must  be  steadfastness  and 
patience,  conjoined  with  calm  and  determined 
courage.  The  glorious  struggle,  and  the  know- 
ledge that  they  owe  everything  to  themselves, 
must  have  infused  and  strengthened  in  them  a  lofty 
sense  of  their  own  dignity  and  an  indomitable  spirit 


HOLLAND.  25 

(if*  liberty  and  independence.  The  necessity  for  a 
continual  struggle,  for  incessant  work,  and  for  contin- 
ual sacrifices  to  protect  their  very  existence,  confronts 
them  perpetually  with  realities,  and  must  have 
helped  to  make  them  an  extremely  practical  and 
economical  nation.  Good  sense  necessarily  became 
their  most  prominent  quality;  economy  was  perforce 
one  of  their  principal  virtues.  This  nation  was 
obliged  to  excel  in  useful  works,  to  be  sober  in  its 
enjoyments,  simple  even  in  its  greatness,  and  success- 
ful in  all  things  that  are  to  be  attained  by  tenacity 
of  purpose  and  by  activity  springing  from  reflec- 
tion and  precision.  It  had  to  be  wise  rather  than 
heroic,  conservative  rather  than  creative;  to  give  no 
great  architects  to  the  edifice  of  modern  thought,  but 
many  able  workmen,  a  legion  of  patient  and  useful 
laborers.  By  virtue  of  these  qualities  of  prudence, 
phlegmatic  activity,  and  conservatism  the  Dutch  are 
ever  advancing,  although  step  by  step.  They  acquire 
slowly,  but  lose  none  of  their  acquisitions; — they  are 
loth  to  quit  ancient  usages,  and,  although,  three  great 
nations  are  in  close  proximity  to  them,  they  retain 
their  originality  as  if  isolated.  They  have  retained 
it  through  different  forms  of  government,  through 
foreign  invasions,  through  the  political  and  religious 
Avars  of  which  Holland  was  the  theatre — in  spite  of  the 
immense  crowd  of  foreigners  from  every  country  who 
have  taken  refuge  in  their  land,  and  have  lived  there 
at  all  times.     They  are,  in  short,  of  all  the  northern 


26  HOLLAND. 

nations,  that  one  which  has  retained  its  ancient  typi- 
cal character  as  it  advanced  on  the  road  toward  civil- 
ization. One  recalling  the  conformation  of  this 
country,  with  its  three  and  a  half  millions  of  inhab- 
itants, can  easily  understand  that  although  fused  into 
a  solid  political  union,  and  although  recognizable 
amongst  the  other  northern  nations  by  certain  traits 
peculiar  to  the  inhabitants  of  all  its  provinces,  it 
must  nevertheless  present  a  great  variety.  Such,  in- 
deed, is  the  case.  Between  Zealand  and  Holland 
proper,  between  Holland  and  Friesland,  between 
Friesland  and  Gelderland,  between  Groningen  and 
Brabant,  although  they  are  closely  bound  together  by 
local  and  historical  ties,  there  is  a  difference  as  great 
as  that  existing  between  the  most  distant  provinces 
of  Italy  and  France.  They  differ  in  language,  in 
costume  and  in  character,  in  race  and  in  religion. 
The  communal  regime  has  impressed  on  this  nation 
an  indelible  stamp,  because  nowhere  else  has  it  so 
conformed  to  the  nature  of  things.  The  interests  of 
the  country  are  divided  into  various  groups,  of  whose 
organization  the  hydraulic  system  is  an  example. 
Hence  association  and  mutual  help  against  the  com- 
mon enemy,  the  sea,  but  freedom  of  action  in  local 
institutions.  The  monarchical  regime  has  not  extin- 
guished the  ancient  municipal  spirit,  which  frustrated 
the  efforts  of  all  tin  se  great  states  that  tried  to  absorb 
Holland.  The  great  rivers  and  deep  gulfs  serve  both 
as  commercial  roads  which  constitute  a  national  bond 


S>utcb  Jfisbino  «oats. 


\ 


' 


3 


r  ' 


HOLLAND.  27 

between  the  various  provinces,  and  as  barriers  which 
defend  their  ancient  traditions  and  provincial  cus- 
toms. In  this  land,  which  is  apparently  so  uniform, 
one  may  say  that  everything  save  the  aspect  of  na- 
ture changes  at  every  step — changes  suddenly,  too, 
as  does  nature  itself,  to  the  eye  of  one  who  crosses 
the  frontier  of  this  state  for  the  first  time. 

But,  however  wonderful  the  physical  history  of 
Holland  may  be,  its  political  history  is  even  more 
marvellous.  This  little  country,  invaded  first  by 
different  tribes  of  the  Germanic  race,  subdued  by  the 
Romans  and  by  the  Franks,  devastated  by  the  Danes 
and  by  the  Normans,  and  wasted  for  centuries  by  ter- 
rible civil  wars, — this  little  nation  of  fishermen  and 
merchants  preserved  its  civil  freedom  and  liberty  of 
conscience  by  a  war  of  eighty  years'  duration  against 
the  formidable  monarchy  of  Philip  II.,  and  founded  a 
republic  which  became  the  ark  of  salvation  for  the 
freedom  of  all  peoples,  the  adopted  home  of  the 
sciences,  the  exchange  of  Europe,  the  station  of  the 
world's  commerce ;  a  republic  which  extends  its 
dominion  to  Java,  Sumatra,  Hindostan,  Ceylon,  New 
Holland,  Japan,  Brazil,  Guiana,  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  the  West  Indies,  and  New  York  ;  a  republic 
that  conquered  England  on  the  sea,  that  resisted  the 
united  armies  of  Charles  II.  and  of  Louis  XIV.,  that 
treated  on  terms  of  equality  Avith  the  greatest 
nations,  and  for  a  time  was  one  of  the  three  powers 
that  ruled  the  destinies  of  Europe. 


28  HOLLAND. 

It  is  no  longer  the  grand  Holland  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  but  it  is  still,  next  to  England, 
the  greatest  colonizing  state  of  the  world.  It  has 
exchanged  its  former  grandeur  for  a  <piiet  pros- 
perity; commerce  has  been  limited,  agriculture  has 
increased;  the  republican  government  has  lost  its 
form  rather  than  its  substance,  for  a  family  of 
patriotic  princes,  dear  to  the  people,  govern  peace- 
ably in  the  midst  of  the  ancient  and  the  newer  lib- 
erties. In  Holland  are  to  be  found  riches  without 
ostentation,  freedom  without  insolence,  taxes  with- 
out poverty.  The  country  goes  on  its  way  without 
panics,  without  insurrections, — preserving,  with  its 
fundamental  good  sense,  in  its  traditions,  customs, 
and  freedom,  the  imprint  of  its  noble  origin.  It  is 
perhaps  amongst  all  European  countries  that  nation 
in  which  there  is  the  best  public  instruction  and  the 
least  corruption.  Alone,  at  the  extremity  of  the  con- 
tinent, occupied  with  its  waters  and  its  colonies,  it 
enjoys  the  fruits  of  its  labors  in  peace  without  com- 
ment, and  can  proudly  say  that  no  nation  in  the  world 
has  purchased  freedom  of  faith  and  liberty  of  gov- 
ernment with  greater  sacrifices. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  that  stimulated  my  curi- 
osity one  fine  summer  morning  at  Antwerp,  as  I  was 
stepping  into  a  ship  that  was  to  take  me  from  the 
Scheldt  to  Zealand,  the  most  mysterious  province  of 
the  Netherlands. 


ZEALAND. 


ZEA  LAND. 


If  a  teacher  of  geography  had  stopped  me  at 
some  street-corner,  before  I  had  decided  to  visit 
Holland,  and  abruptly  asked  me,  "  Where  is 
Zealand?"  I  should  have  had  nothing  to  sav ; 
and  I  believe  I  am  not  mistaken  in  the  supposition 
that  a  great  number  of  my  fellow-citizens,  if  asked 
the  same  question,  would  find  it  difficult  to 
answer.  Zealand  is  somewhat  mysterious  even  to 
the  Dutch  themselves;  very  few  of  them  have  seen 
it,  and  of  those  few  the  greater  part  have  only 
passed  through  it  by  boat ;  hence  it  is  mentioned 
only  on  rare  occasions,  and  then  as  if  it  were  a  far- 
off  country.  From  the  few  words  I  heard  spoken  by 
my  fellow-voyagers,  I  learned  that  they  had  never 
been  to  the  province ;  so  we  were  all  equally 
curious,  and  the  ship  had  not  weighed  anchor  ere 
we  entered  into  conversation,  and  were  exciting 
eaeh  other's  curiosity  by  questions  which  none  of 
us  could  answer. 

The  ship  started  at  sunrise,  and  fur  a  time  we 
enjoyed  the  view  of  the  spire  of  Antwerp  Cathedral, 
wrought  of  Mechlin  lace,  as  the  enamoured  Na- 
poleon said  of  it. 

31 


32  ZEALAND. 

After  a  short  stop  at  the  fort  of  Lillo  and  the  vil- 
lage of  Doel,  we  left  Belgium  and  entered  Zealand. 

In  passing  the  frontier  of  a  country  for  the  first 
time,  although  we  know  that  the  scene  will  not 
change  suddenly,  we  always  look  round  curiously  as 
if  we  expect  it  to  do  so.  In  fact,  all  the  passengers 
leaned  over  the  rail  of  the  boat,  that  they  might  be 
present  when  the  apparition  of  Zealand  should  sud- 
denly be  revealed. 

For  some  time  our  curiosity  was  not  gratified : 
nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the  smooth  green  shores 
of  the  Scheldt,  wide  as  an  arm  of  the  sea,  dotted 
with  banks  of  sand,  over  which  flew  flocks  of 
screaming  sea-gulls,  while  the  pure  sky  did  not  seem 
to  be  that  of  Holland. 

We  were  sailing  between  the  island  of  South 
Beveland  and  the  strip  of  land  forming  the  left  bank 
of  the  Scheldt,  which  is  called  Flanders  of  the  States, 
or  Flemish  Zealand. 

The  history  of  this  piece  of  land  is  very  curious. 
To  a  foreigner  the  entrance  of  Holland  is  like  the 
fust  page  of  a  great  epic  entitled,  The  Struggle  with 
the  Sea.  In  the  Middle  Ages  it  was  nothing  but  a 
wide  "iilf  with  a  few  small  islands.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  sixteenth  century  this  gulf  was  no  longer  in 
existence:  four  hundred  years  of  patient  labor  had 
changed  it  into  a  fertile  plain,  defended  by  embank- 
ments, traversed  by  canals,  populated  by  villages, 
and  known  as  Flemish   Zealand.      When  the  war  of 


ZEALAND.  33 

independence  broke  out  the  inhabitants  of  Flemish 
Zealand,  opened  their  dykes  rather  than  yield  their 
land  to  the  Spanish  armies:  the  sea  rushed  in,  again 
forming  the  gulf  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  destroy- 
ing in  one  day  the  work  of  four  centuries.  When 
the  war  of  independence  was  ended  they  began  to 
drain  it,  and  after  three  hundred  years  Flemish  Zea- 
land once  more  saw  the  light,  and  was  restored 
to  the  continent  like  a  child  raised  from  the  dead. 
Thus  in  Holland  lands  rise,  sink,  and  reappear,  like 
the  realms  of  the  Arabian  Nights  at  the  touch  of  a 
magic  wand.  Flemish  Zealand,  which  is  divided 
from  Belgian  Flanders  by  the  double  barrier  of  pol- 
itics and  religion,  and  from  Holland  by  the  Scheldt, 
preserves  the  customs,  the  beliefs,  and  the  exact  im- 
press of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  traditions  of 
the  war  with  Spain  are  still  as  real  and  living  as 
the  events  of  our  own  times.  The  soil  is  fertile,  the 
inhabitants  enjoy  great  prosperity,  their  manners 
are  severe  ;  they  have  schools  and  printing-presses, 
and  live  peacefully  on  their  fragment  of  the  earth 
which  appeared  but  yesterday,  to  disappear  again  on 
that  day  when  the  sea  shall  demand  it  for  a  third 
burial.  One  of  my  fellow-travellers,  a  Belgian  lady, 
who  gave  me  this  information,  drew  my  attention  to 
the  fact  that  the  inhabitants  of  Flemish  Zealand  were 
still  Catholics  when  they  inundated  their  land, 
although  they  had  already  rebelled  against  the 
Spanish     dominion,    and    consequently    it    occurred, 


P>4  ZEALAND. 

strangely  enough,  that  the  province  went  down  Cath- 
olic and  came  up  Protestant. 

Greatly  to  my  surprise,  the  boat,  instead  of  con- 
tinuing down  the  Scheldt,  and  so  making  the  circuit 
of  the  island  of  South  Beveland,  entered  the  island, 
when  it  reached  a  certain  point,  passing  through  a 
narrow  canal  that  crosses  or  rather  cuts  the  island 
apart,  and  so  joins  the  two  branches  of  the  river  that 
encircles  it.  This  was  the  first  Dutch  canal  through 
which  I  had  passed:  it  was  a  new  experience.  The 
canal  is  bordered  on  either  side  by  a  dyke  which 
hides  the  country.  The  ship  glided  on  stealthily,  as 
if  it  had  taken  some  hidden  road  in  order  to  spring 
out  on  some  one  unawares.  There  was  not  a  single 
boat  in  the  canal  nor  a  living  soul  on  the  dykes,  and 
the  silence  and  solitude  strengthened  the  impression 
that  our  course  had  the  hidden  air  of  a  piratical  in- 
cursion. On  leaving  the  canal  we  entered  the  east- 
ern  branch   of  the   Scheldt. 

AN  e  were  now  in  the  heart  of  Zealand.  On  the 
right  was  the  island  of  Tholen  ;  on  the  left,  the  island 
of  North  Beveland;  behind,  South  Beveland;  in 
front.  Schouwen.  Excepting  the  island  of  YVal- 
eheren,  we  could  now  see  all  the  principal  islands  of 
the   mysterious  archipelago. 

15ut  the  mystery  consists  in  this — the  islands  are 
nol  seen,  thov  must  be  imagined.  To  the  riirlit  and 
left  of  the  wide  river,  before  and  behind  the  ship, 
nothing  was   to   be   seen  but  the   straight  line  of  the 


ZEALAND.  35 

embankments,  like  a  green  band  on  a  level  with  the 
-water,  and  beyond  this  streak,  here  and  there,  were 
tips  of  trees  and  of  steeples,  and  the  red  ridges  of  roofs 
that  seemed  to  be  peeping  over  to  see  us  pass.  Not 
one  hill,  not  one  rise  in  the  ground,  not  one  house, 
could  be  discovered  anywhere :  all  was  hidden,  all 
seemed  immersed  in  water ;  it  seemed  that  the 
islands  were  on  the  point  of  sinking  into  the  river, 
and  we  glanced  stealthily  at  each  other  to  make  sure 
we  were  still  there.  It  seemed  like  going  through  a 
country  during  a  flood,  and  it  Avas  an  agreeable  thought 
that  we  were  in  a  ship.  Every  now  and  then  the 
vessel  stopped  and  some  passengers  for  Zealand  got 
into  a  boat  and  went  ashore.  Although  I  was  eager 
to  visit  the  province,  I  nevertheless  regarded  them 
with  a  feeling  of  compassion,  imagining  that  those 
unreal  islands  were  only  monster  whales  about  to 
dive  into  the  water  at  the  approach  of  the  boats. 

The  captain  of  our  ship,  a  Hollander,  stopped 
near  me  to  examine  a  small  map  of  Zealand  which 
he  held  in  his  hand.  I  immediately  seized  the 
opportunity  and  overwhelmed  him  with  questions. 
Fortunately,  I  had  hit  upon  one  of  the  few 
Dutchmen  who,  like  us  Italians,  love  the  sound  of 
their  own  voices. 

"  Here  in  Zealand,  even  more  than  in  other  prov- 
inces," said  he,  as  seriously  as  if  he  were  a  master 
giving  a  lesson,  "  the  dykes  are  a  question  of 
life  and  death.    At  high  tide  all  Zealand  is  below  sea- 

Vol.  I.— 3 


36  ZEALAND. 

level.  For  every  dyke  that  were  broken,  an  island 
would  disappear.  The  worst  of  it  is,  that  here  the 
dykes  have  to  resist  not  only  the  direct  shock  of  the 
waves,  but  another  power  which  is  even  more  danger- 
ous. The  rivers  fling  themselves  toward  the  sea, — the 
sea  casts  itself  against  the  rivers,  and  in  this  contin- 
ual struggle  undercurrents  are  formed  which  wash 
the  foundations  of  the  embankments,  until  they 
suddenly  give  way  like  a  Avail  that  is  under- 
mined. The  Zealanders  must  be  continually  on 
their  guard.  AVhen  a  dyke  is  in  danger,  they  make 
another  one  farther  inland,  and  await  the  assault 
of  the  water  behind  it.  Thus  they  gain  time,  and 
either  rebuild  the  first  embankment  or  continue 
to  recede  from  fortress  to  fortress  until  the  current 
changes  and  they  are  saved." 

"Is  it  not  possible,"  I  asked,  introducing  the  ele- 
ment of  poetry,  "  that  some  day  Zealand  may  no 
longer  exist  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,"  he  replied,  to  my  sorrow:  "the 
day  may  come  in  which  Zealand  will  no  longer  be  an 
archipelago,  but  terra  firma.  The  Scheldt  and  the 
Mouse  continually  bring  down  mud,  which  is 
deposited  in  the  arms  of  the  sea,  and,  rising  little 
by  little,  enlarges  the  islands,  thus  enclosing  the 
towns  and  villages  that  were  ports  on  the  coast. 
Axel,  Goes,  Veer,  Arnemuyden,  and  Middelburg 
were  maritime  towns,  and  are  now  inland  cities. 
Hence  the  day  will  surely  come  in  which  the  waters 


ZEALAND.  37 

of  the  livers  will  no  longer  pass  between  the 
islands  of  Zealand,  and  a  network  of  railways  will 
extend  over  the  whole  country,  which  will  he  joined 
to  the  continent,  as  has  already  happened  in  the 
island  of  South  Beveland.  Zealand  grows  in  its 
struggle  with  the  sea.  The  sea  may  gain  the 
victory  in  other  parts  of  Holland,  hut  here  it  will  he 
worsted.  Are  you  familiar  with  the  anus  of  Zealand  : 
a  lion  in  the  act  of  swimming,  above  which  is  written, 
' Luctor  et  emergo'V 

After  these  words  he  remained  silent  for  some  mo- 
ments, while  a  passing  glance  of  pride  enlivened  his 
face :   then  he  continued  with  his  former  gravity : 

"  Emergo,  but  he  did  not  always  emerge.  All 
the  islands  of  Zealand,  one  after  the  other,  have  slept 
under  the  waters  for  longer  or  shorter  periods  of 
time.  Three  centuries  ago  the  island  of  Schouwen 
was  inundated  by  the  sea,  when  all  the  inhabitants 
and  cattle  were  drowned  and  it  was  reduced  to  a 
desert.  The  island  of  North  Beveland  was  completely 
submerged  shortly  after,  and  for  several  years  nothing 
was  to  be  seen  but  the  tips  of  the  church-steeples 
peeping  out  of  the  water.  The  island  of  South 
Beveland  shared  the  same  fate  toward  the  middle  of 
the  fourteenth  century, — the  island  of  Tholen  suf- 
fered in  the  year  1825  of  our  century, — the  island 
of  Walcheren  in  1808,  and  in  the  capital  of  Middel- 
burg,  although  it  is  several  miles  distant  from  the 
coast,   the   water  was  up  to  the  roofs." 


38  ZEALAND. 

As  I  listened  to  these  stones  of  the  water,  of  in- 
undations and  submerged  districts,  it  seemed  strange 
to  me  that  I  myself  was  not  drowned.  .  I  asked  the 
captain  what  sort  of  people  lived  in  those  invisible 
countries,  with  water  underfoot  and  overhead. 

"Farmers  and  shepherds,"  he  answered.  "We 
call  Zealand  a  group  of  forts  defended  by  a  garrison 
of  farmers  and  shepherds.  Zealand  is  the  richest 
agricultural  province  in  the  Netherlands.  The  al- 
luvial soil  of  these  islands  is  a  marvel  of  fertility. 
Few  countries  can  boast  such  wheat,  colza,  flax,  and 
madder  as  it  produces.  Its  people  raise  prodigious 
cattle  and  colossal  horses,  which  are  even  larger  than 
those  of  the  Flemish  breed.  The  people  are  strong 
and  handsome  ;  they  preserve  their  ancient  customs, 
and  live  contentedly  in  prosperity  and  peace.  Zea- 
land is  a  hidden  paradise." 

While  the  captain  was  speaking  the  ship  en- 
tered the  Kceten  Canal,  which  divides  the  island  of 
Tholen  from  the  island  of  Schouwen,  and  is  famous 
for  the  ford  across  which  the  Spanish  made  their  way 
in  1.575,  just  as  the  eastern  side  of  the  Scheldt  is 
famous  for  the  passage  they  forced  in  1572.  All 
Zealand  is  full  of  memories  of  that  war.  Because 
of  its  intimate  connection  with  William  of  Orange, 
the  hereditary  lord  of  a  great  part  of  the  land  in  the 
islands,  and  by  reason  of  the  impediments  of  every 
kind  that  it  could  oppose  to  invaders,  this  little 
archipelago  of  sand,  half  buried  in  the  sea,  became 


ZEALAND.  39 

the  theatre  of  war  and  heresy,  and  the  duke  of  Alva 
longed  to  possess  it.  Consequently  terrible  struggles 
raged  on  its  shores,  signalised  by  all  the  horrors  of 
battles  by  land  and  sea.  The  soldiers  forded  the 
canals  by  night  in  a  dense  throng,  the  water  up  to 
their  throats,  menaced  by  the  tide,  beaten  by  the 
rain,  with  volleys  of  musketry  pouring  down  the 
banks,  their  horses  and  artillery  swallowed  in  the 
mud,  the  wounded  swept  away  by  the  current  or 
buried  alive  in  the  quagmires.  The  air  resounded 
with  German,  Spanish,  Italian,  and  Flemish  voices. 
Torches  illuminated  the  great  arquebuses,  the  pomp- 
ous plumes,  the  strange,  blanched  faces.  The  battles 
seemed  to  be  fantastic  funerals.  They  were,  in  fact, 
the  funerals  of  the  great  Spanish  monarchy,  which 
was  slowly  drowned  in  Dutch  waters,  smothered  with 
mud  and  curses.  One  who  is  weak  enough  to  feel  an 
excessive  tenderness  for  Spain  need  only  go  to  Hol- 
land if  he  wishes  to  do  penance  for  this  sin.  Never, 
perchance,  have  there  been  two  nations  which  have 
had  better  reasons  than  these  to  hate  each  other  with 
all  their  strength,  or  which  tried  with  greater  fury 
to  establish  those  reasons.  I  remember,  to  mention 
one  alone  of  a  thousand  contrasts,  how  it  impressed 
me  to  hear  Philip  II.  spoken  of  in  terms  so  different 
from  those  used  in  the  Pyrenees  a  few  months  before. 
In  Spain  his  lowest  title  was  the  great  king:  in  Hol- 
land they  called  him  a  cowardly  tyrant. 

The  ship  passed  between  the  island  of  Schouwen 


40  ZEALAND. 

and  the  little  island  of  St.  Philipsland,  and  a  few 
moments  later  entered  the  wide  branch  of  the  Mouse 
called  Krammer,  which  divides  the  island  of  Over- 
flakkee  from  the  continent.  We  seemed  to  be  sailing 
through  a  chain  of  large  lakes.  The  distant  banks 
presented  the  same  appearance  as  those  of  the 
Scheldt.  Dykes  stretched  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see,  and  behind  the  dykes  appeared  the  tops  of  trees, 
the  tips  of  steeples,  and  the  roofs  of  houses,  which 
were  hidden  from  view,  all  lending  the  landscape  an 
air  of  mystery  and  solitude.  Only  on  some  projection 
of  the  banks  which  formed  a  gap  in  the  immense 
bulwarks  of  the  island  peeped  forth,  as  it  were,  a 
sketch  of  a  Dutch  landscape — a  painted  cottage,  a 
windmill,  a  beat — which  seemed  to  reveal  a  secret 
created  to  arouse  the  curiosity  of  travellers,  and  to 
delude  it  directly  it  was  aroused. 

Suddenly,  on  approaching  the  prow  of  the  ship, 
where  were  the  third-class  passengers,  I  made  a  most 
agreeable  discovery.  Here  was  a  group  of  peas- 
ants, men  and  women,  dressed  in  the  costume  of 
Zealand — I  do  not  remember  of  which  island,  for  the 
costume  differs  in  each,  like  the  dialect,  which  is 
a  mixture  of  Dutch  and  Flemish,  if  one  may  so 
speak  of  two  languages  that  are  almost  identical. 
The  men  were  all  dressed  alike.  They  wore  round  felt 
hats  trimmed  with  wide  embroidered  ribbons;  their 
jackets  were  of  dark  cloth,  close  fitting,  and  so  short 
as  hardly  to  cover  their  hips,  and  left  open  to  show 


ZEALAND.  41 

a  sort  of  waistcoat  striped  with  red,  yellow,  and  green, 
which  was  closed  over  the  chest  by  a  row  of  silver 
buttons  attached  to  one  another  like  the  links  of  a 
chain.  Their  costume  was  completed  by  a  pair  of 
short  breeches  of  the  same  color  as  the  jacket,  tied 
round  the  waist  by  a  band  ornamented  by  a  large  stud 
of  chiselled  silver, — a  red  cravat,  and  woollen  stock- 
ings reaching  to  the  knee.  In  short,  below  the  waist 
their  dress  was  that  of  a  priest,  and  above  it,  that  of 
a  harlequin.  One  of  them  had  coins  for  buttons,  and 
this  is  not  an  unusual  practice.  The  women  wore  very 
high  straw  hats  in  the  form  of  a  broken  cone,  which 
looked  like  overturned  buckets,  bound  round  with  long 
blue  ribbons  fluttering  in  the  wind  ;  their  dresses  were 
dark-colored,  open  at  the  throat,  revealing  white 
embroidered  chemisettes ;  their  arms  were  bare  to 
the  elbow :  and  two  enormous  gold  earrings  of  the 
of  the  most  eccentric  shape  projected  almost  over 
their  cheeks.  Although  in  my  voyage  I  tried  to 
imitate  Victor  Hugo  in  admiring  everything  as  a 
savage,  I  could  not  possibly  persuade  myself  that 
this  was  a  beautiful  style  of  dress.  But  I  was 
prepared  for  incongruities  of  this  sort.  I  knew 
that  we  go  to  Holland  to  see  novelty  rather  than 
beauty,  and  good  things  rather  than  new  ones,  so 
I  was  predisposed  to  observe  rather  than  to  be 
enthusiastic.  If  that  first  impression  was  not  very 
pleasant  to  my  artistic  taste,  I  consoled  myself  by 
the  thought    that  doubtless  all  those  peasants   could 


42  ZEALAND. 

read  and  write,  and  that  possibly  on  the  previous 
evening  they  had  learned  by  heart  a  poem  of  their 
great  poet,  Jacob  Catz,  and  that  they  were  probably 
on  their  way  to  some  agricultural  convention  of  which 
the  programme  was  in  their  pockets,  where  with 
arguments  drawn  from  their  modest  experience  they 
would  confute  the  propositions  of  some  scientific 
farmer  from  Goes  or  Middelburg.  Ludovico 
Guicciardini,  a  Florentine  nobleman,  the  author 
of  an  excellent  work  on  the  Netherlands  printed 
in  Antwerp  in  the  sixteenth  century,  says  that 
there  was  hardly  a  man  or  woman  in  Zealand  who 
did  not  speak  French  or  Spanish,  and  that  a  great 
many  spoke  Italian.  This  statement,  which  was  per- 
haps an  exaggeration  in  his  day,  would  now  be  a 
fable,  but  it  is  certain  that  amongst  the  rural  in- 
habitants of  Zealand  there  exists  an  extraordinary 
intellectual  culture,  far  superior  to  that  of  the 
peasants  of  France,  Belgium,  Germany,  and  many 
other  provinces  of  Holland. 

The  ship  rounded  the  island  of  Philipsland,  and 
Ave  found  ourselves  outside  of  Zealand. 

Thus  this  province,  mysterious  before  we  entered 
it,  seemed  doubly  so  when  we  had  quitted  it.  We 
had  traversed  it  and  had  not  seen  it,  and  we  left  it 
with  our  curiosity  ungratified.  The  only  thing 
we  had  perceived  was  that  Zealand  is  a  country 
hidden  from  view.  But  one  is  deceived  who  thinks  it 
is  mysterious  for  the  sole  reason  that  it  is  invisible 


ZEALAND.  43 

— everything  in  Zealand  is  a  mystery.  First  of 
all, — How  was  it  formed?  Was  it  a  group  of 
tiny  alluvial  islands,  uninhabited  and  separated  only 
by  canals,  which,  as  some  believe,  met  and  formed 
larger  islands  ?  Or  was  it,  as  others  think,  terra 
firma  when  the  Scheldt  emptied  itself  into  the 
Meuse?  But,  even  leaving  its  origin  out  of  the 
question,  in  what  other  country  in  the  world  do 
things  happen  as  they  happen  in  Zealand?  In 
what  other  country  do  the  fishermen  catch  in  their 
nets  a  siren  whose  husband,  after  vain  prayers  to 
have  her  restored,  in  vengeance  throws  up  a 
handful  of  sand,  prophesying  that  it  will  bury 
the  gates  of  the  town — and  lo  his  prophecy  is 
fulfilled  ?  In  what  other  country  do  the  souls  of  those 
lost  at  sea  come  as  they  come  to  Walcheren,  and 
awaken  the  fishermen  with  the  demand  that  they  be 
conducted  to  the  coasts  of  England?  In  what  other 
country  do  the  sea-storms  fling,  as  they  do  on  the 
banks  of  the  island  of  Schouwen,  carcasses  borne 
from  the  farthest  north — monsters  half  men,  half 
boats,  mummies  bound  in  the  floating  trunks  of 
trees,  of  which  an  example  is  still  to  be  seen  at 
the  guildhall  of  Zierikzee?  In  what  country,  as  at 
Wemeldingen,  does  a  man  fall  head  foremost  into  a 
canal,  where,  remaining  under  water  an  hour,  he  sees 
his  dead  wife  and  children,  who  call  to  him  from 
Paradise,  and  is  then  drawn  out  of  the  water  alive, 
whereupon  he    relates   this   miracle  to  Victor  Hugo, 


44  ZEALAND. 

who  believes  it  and  comments  on  it,  concluding  that 
the  soul  may  leave  the  body  for  some  time  and  then 
return  to  it?  Where,  as  near  Domburg,  at  low  Mater 
is  it  possible  to  draw  up  ancient  temples  and  statues  of 
unknown  deities  ?  In  what  other  place  does  the  sword 
of  a  Spanish  captain,  Mondragone,  serve  as  a  light- 
ning-conductor, as  at  Wemeldingen  ?  In  what  other 
country  are  unfaithful  women  made  to  walk  naked 
through  the  streets  of  the  town  with  two  stones  hung 
round  the  neck  and  a  cylinder  of  iron  on  the  head,  as 
in  the  island  of  Schouwen  ?  Now,  really,  this  last 
marvel  is  no  longer  seen,  but  the  stones  still  exist, 
and  any  one  can  see  them  in  the  guildhall  at  Brau- 
wershaven. 

Our  ship  now  entered  that  part  of  the  southern 
branch  of  the  Meuse  called  Volkerak.  The  scene  was 
just  the  same — dykes  upon  dykes,  the  tips  of  houses 
and  church-steeples,  a  few  boats  here  and  there. 
One  thing  only  was  changed,  the  sky.  I  then  saw 
for  the  first  time  the  Dutch  sky  as  it  usually  appears, 
and  witnessed  one  of  those  battles  of  light  peculiar 
to  the  Netherlands — battles  which  the  great  Dutch 
landscape-artists  have  painted  with  insuperable  pow- 
er. Previously  the  sky  had  been  serene.  It  was  a 
beautiful  summer  day:  the  waters  were  blue,  the 
banks  emerald  green,  the  air  warm,  with  not  a  breath 
of  wind  stiiring.  Suddenly  a  thick  cloud  hid  the 
sun.  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  every- 
thing was  as  different  as  if  the  season,  the  hour,  and 


ZEALAND.  45 

the  latitude  had  all  been  changed  in  a  moment.  The 
waters  became  dark,  the  green  of  the  banks  grew 
dull,  the  horizon  was  hidden  under  a  gray  veil; 
everything  seemed  shrouded  in  a  twilight  which 
made  all  things  lose  their  outline.  An  evil  wind 
arose,  chilling  us  to  the  bone.  It  seemed  to  be  De- 
cember;  we  felt  the  chill  of  winter  and  that  rest- 
lessness which  accompanies  every  sudden  menace  on 
the  part  of  nature.  All  round  the  horizon  small 
leaden-colored  clouds  began  to  collect,  scudding  rapid- 
ly along,  as  though  searching  impatiently  for  a  direc- 
tion and  a  shape.  Then  the  waters  began  to  ripple, 
and  became  streaked  with  rapid  luminous  reflections, 
with  long  stripes  of  green,  violet,  white,  ochre,  black. 
Finally  this  irritation  of  nature  ended  in  a  violent 
downpour,  which  confused  sky,  water,  and  earth  in 
one  gray  mass,  broken  only  by  a  lighter  tone  caused 
by  the  far-off  banks,  and  by  some  sailing  ships,  which 
came  into  view  here  and  there  like  upright  shadows 
on   the   waters  of  the  river. 

u  Now  we  are  really  in  Holland,"  said  the  captain 
of  the  ship,  approaching  a  group  of  passengers  who 
were  contemplating  the  spectacle.  "  Such  sudden 
changes  of  scene,"  he  continued,  "are  never  seen 
anywhere  else." 

Then,  in  answer  to  a  question  from  one  of  us,  he 
ran   on  : 

"  Holland  has  a  meteorology  quite  her  own.  The 
Avinter  is  long,  the  summer  short,  the  spring  is  only 


4G  ZEALAND. 

the  end  of  the  winter,  but  nevertheless,  you  see,  every 
now  and  then,  even  during  the  summer,  we  have  a 
touch  of  winter.  We  always  say  that  in  Holland 
the  four  seasons  may  be  seen  in  one  day.  Our  sky 
is  the  most  changeable  in  the  world.  This  is  the 
reason  why  we  arc  always  talking  of  the  weather,  for 
the  atmosphere  is  the  most  variable  spectacle  we 
have.  If  we  wish  to  sec  something  that  will  entertain 
us,  we  must  look  upward.  But  it  is  a  dull  climate. 
The  sea  sends  us  rain  on  three  sides :  the  winds 
break  loose  over  the  country  even  on  the  finest  days; 
the  ground  exhales  vapors  that  darken  the  horizon  ; 
for  several  months  the  air  has  no  transparency. 
You  should  see  the  winter.  There  arc  days  when 
you  would  say  it  would  never  be  fine  again  :  the 
darkness  seems  to  come  from  above  like  the  light ;  the 
north-east  wind  brings  us  the  icy  air  from  the  North 
I*ole,  and  lashes  the  sea  with  such  fury  and  roaring 
that  it  seems  as  though  it  would  destroy  the  coasts." 
Here  he  turned  to  me  and  said,  smiling,  "  You  are 
better  off  in  Italy."  Then  he  grew  serious  and 
added,  "  However,  every  country  has  its  good  and 
bad   side." 

The  boat  left  the  Volkcrak,  passed  in  front  of  the 
fortress  of  Willemstadt,  built  in  1583  by  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  and  entered  Hollandsdiep,  a  wide  branch 
of  the  Mouse  which  separates  South  Holland  from 
North  Brabant.  All  that  we  saw  from  the  ship  was 
a    wide   expanse   of    water,  two  dark    stripes  to  the 


ZEALAND.  47 

right  and  left,  and  a  gray  sky.  A  French  lady, 
breaking  the  general  silence,  exclaimed  with  a  yawn, 

"  How  beautiful  is  Holland  !" 

All  of  us  laughed  excepting  the  Dutch  passengers. 

"Ah,  captain,"  began  a  little  old  Belgian,  one  of 
those  pillars  of  the  coffee-house  who  are  always  thrust- 
ing their  politics  in  the  faces  of  their  fellows,  "there 
is  a  good  and  a  bad  side  to  every  country,  and  we 
Belgians  and  Dutchmen  ought  to  have  been  per- 
suaded of  this  truth,  and  then  we  should  have  been 
indulgent  toward  each  other  and  have  lived  in  har- 
mony. When  one  thinks  that  we  are  now  a  nation 
of  nine  millions  of  inhabitants, — we  with  our  indus- 
tries and  you  with  your  commerce,  with  two  such 
capitals  as  Amsterdam  and  Brussels,  and  tAvo  com- 
mercial towns  like  Antwerp  and  Rotterdam,  avo 
should  count  for  something  in  this  world,  eh, 
captain  ?" 

The  captain  did  not  answer.  Another  Dutchman 
said  : 

"Yes,  with  a  religious  war  twelve  months  in  the 
year." 

The  little  old  Belgian,  somewhat  put  out,  now 
addressed  his  remarks  tome  in  a  low  tone:  "It  is 
a  fact,  sir.  It  was  stupid,  especially  on  our  part. 
You  will  see  Holland.  Amsterdam  is  certainly  not 
Brussels ;  it  is  as  flat  and  wearisome  a  country  as  can 
well  be;  but  as  to  prosperity  it  is  far  beyond  us. 
Assure   yourself  that  they  spend  a  florin,  which  is 


48  ZEALAND. 

two  and  a  half  francs,  where  we  spend  a  franc. 
You  will  sec  it  in  your  hotel  bills.  They  are  twice  as 
rich  as  we  arc.  It  was  all  the  fault  of  William  the 
First,  who  wished  to  make  a  Dutch  Belgium  and  has 
pushed  us  to  extremes.  You  know  how  it  happened  " 
— and  so  on. 

In  Hollandsdiep  we  began  to  see  big  barges, 
small-fishing-boats,  and  some  large  ships  that  had 
come  from  Hellevoetsluis,  an  important  maritime 
port  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Ilaringvliet,  a  branch 
of  the  Meuse,  near  its  mouth,  where  nearly 
every  vessel  from  India  stops.  The  rain  ceased. 
The  sky,  gradually,  unwillingly,  became  serene,  and 
on  a  sudden  the  waters  and  the  banks  were 
clothed  once  more  in  fresh  glowing  colors:  it  was 
summer  again. 

In  a  little  while  the  vessel  reached  the  village  of 
Moerdyk,  where  one  of  the  largest  bridges  in  the 
world  is  to  be  seen. 

It  is  an  iron  structure  a  mile  and  a  half  Ions,  over 
which  passes  the  railway  to  Dordrecht  and  Hotter- 
dam.  From  a  distance  it  looks  like  fourteen  enormous 
edifices  put  in  line  across  the  river:  each  one  of  the 
fourteen  high  arches  supporting  the  tracks  is  in  truth 
a  huge  edifice.  In  passing  over  it,  as  I  did  a  few 
months  later  on  my  return  to  Holland,  I  saw  nothing 
but  sky  and  water,  so  wide  is  the  river  at  this  point, 
and  I  felt  almost  afraid  the  bridge  might  suddenly 
come  to  an  end,  and  plunge  the  train  into  the  water. 


©orDuecbt -Canal  wftb  Gatbefcral  m 
tbe  ^Distance. 


~P3 


ZEALAND.  49 

Tlic  boat  turned  to  the  left,  passing  in  front  of  the 
bridge,  and  entered  a  very  narrow  branch  of  the 
Meuse  called  Dordsche  Kil,  which  had  dykes  on 
either  side,  and  hence  looked  more  like  a  canal  than 
a  liver.  It  was  already  the  seventh  turn  Ave  had 
made  since  we  crossed  the  frontier. 

Passing  down  the  Dordsche  Kil,  we  began  to  see 
signs  of  the  proximity  of  a  large  town.  There  were 
long  rows  of  trees  on  the  hanks,  bushes,  cottages, 
canals  to  the  right  and  left,  and  much  moving  of 
boats  and  barges.  The  passengers  became  more  ani- 
mated, and  here  and  there  were  heard  exclamations 
of  "  Dordrecht !  we  shall  see  Dordrecht."  All  seemed 
preparing  themselves  for  some  extraordinary  scene. 

The  spectacle  was  not  long  delayed,  and  was  ex- 
traordinary indeed. 

The  boat  turned  for  the  eighth  time,  to  the  right, 
and  entered  the  Oude  Maas  or  Old  Meuse. 

In  a  few  moments  the  first  houses  of  the 
suburbs  around  Dordrecht  came  into  view.  It  was 
a  sudden  apparition  of  Holland,  a  gratification  of  our 
curiosity  immediate  and  complete,  a  revelation  of 
all  the  mysteries  which  were  tormenting  our 
brains  :  avc  seemed  to  be  in  a  new  world. 

Immense  windmills  with  revolving  arms  were  to 
be  seen  on  every  side;  houses  of  a  thousand  extraor- 
dinary shapes  were  dotted  along  the  banks :  some 
were  like  villas,  others  like  pavilions,  kiosks, 
cottages,    chapels,    theatres, — their    roofs  red,   their 


50  ZEALAND. 

walls  black,  blue,  pink,  and  gray,  their  doors  and 
windows  encircled  with  white  borders  like  drifts  of 
snow.  Canals  little  and  big  were  leading  in  every 
direction  ;  in  front  of  the  houses  and  along  the  canals 
were  groups  and  rows  of  trees;  ships  glided  among 
the  cottages  and  boats  were  moored  before  the  doors ; 
sails  shone  in  the  streets — masts,  pennons,  and  the 
arms  of  windmills  projected  in  confusion  above  the 
trees  and  roofs.  Bridges,  stairways,  gardens  on  the 
water,  a  thousand  corners,  little  docks,  creeks,  open- 
ings, crossways  on  the  canals,  hiding-places  for  the 
boats,  men,  women,  and  children  passing  each  other 
on  the  ways  from  the  river  to  the  bank,  from  the 
canals  to  their  houses,  from  the  bridges  to  the  barges, 
— all  these  made  the  scene  one  of  motion  and  variety. 
Everywhere  was  water, — color,  new  forms,  childish 
figures,  little  details,  all  glossy  and  fresh, — an  in- 
genuous display  of  prettiness — a  mixture  of  the  prim- 
itive and  the  theatrical,  of  grace  and  absurdity,  which 
was  partly  European,  partly  Chinese,  partly  belong- 
ing to  no  land, — and  over  all  a  delightful  air  of  peace 
and  innocence. 

So  Dordrecht  flashed  upon  me  for  the  first  time, 
the  oldest  and  at  the  same  time  the  freshest  and 
brightest  town  of  Holland,  the  queen  of  Dutch  com- 
merce in  the  Middle  Ages — the  mother  of  painters 
and  scholars.  Honored  in  1572  by  the  first  meeting 
within  its  walls  of  the  deputies  of  the  United  Prov- 
inces,   it    was   also   at   different    times    the    seat   of 


ZEALAND.  51 

memorable  synods,  and  was  particularly  famous  for 
that  meeting  of  the  protestant  theologians  in  1618, 
the  Ecumenical  Council  of  the  Reformation,  which 
decided  the  terrible  religious  dispute  between  Ar- 
minians  and  Gomarists,  established  the  form  of 
national  worship,  and  gave  rise  to  that  series  of 
disturbances  and  persecutions  which  ended  with  the 
unfortunate  murder  of  Barneveldt  and  the  sanguinary 
triumph  of  Maurice  of  Orange.  Dordrecht,  because 
of  its  easy  communication  with  the  sea,  with  Belgium, 
and  with  the  interior  of  Holland,  is  still  one  of  the 
most  flourishing  commercial  towns  of  the  United 
Provinces.  To  Dordrecht  come  the  immense  sup- 
plies of  wood  which  are  brought  down  the  Rhine 
from  the  Black  Forest  and  Switzerland — the  Rhine 
wines,  the  lime,  the  cement  and  the  stone ;  in  its 
little  port  there  is  a  continual  movement  of  snowy 
sails  and  of  smoking  steamers,  while  little  flags 
bring  greetings  from  Arnhem,  Bois-le-Duc,  Nime- 
guen,  Rotterdam,  Antwerp,  and  from  all  their  mys- 
terious sisters  in  Zealand. 

The  boat  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  at  Dordrecht, 
and  I  unexpectedly  observed  near  by  a  number  of 
fresh  little  cottages  which  were  purely  Dutch,  and 
which  aroused  in  me  the  greatest  desire  to  land  and 
make  their  acquaintance.  But  I  conquered  my  curi- 
osity by  the  thought  that  at  Rotterdam  I  should 
see  many  such  sights.  The  boat  started,  turned  to 
the  left  (it  was  the  ninth   turning),    and   entered  a 

Vol.  I.— 4 


52  ZEALAND. 

narrow  branch  of  the  Meuse  called  De  Noord,  one 
of  the  numerous  threads  of  that  inextricable  network 
of  the  waters  which  covers  Southern  Holland. 

The  captain  approached  me  as  I  was  looking  for 
him  to  explain  the  position  of  Dordrecht  on  the  map, 
for  it  seemed  to  me  very  singular.  In  fact,  it  is 
singular.  Dordrecht  is  situated  at  the  extremity 
of  a  piece  of  ground  separated  from  the  continent, 
and  forming  in  the  midst  of  the  land  an  island 
crossed  and  recrossed  by  numerous  streams,  some  of 
which  are  natural,  some  the  work  of  man,  rivers 
made  half  by  man,  half  by  nature — a  bit  of  Hol- 
land encircled  and  imprisoned  by  the  waters,  like  a 
battalion  overcome  by  an  army.  It  is  bounded  on  the 
four  sides  by  the  river  Merwede,  the  ancient  Mosa, 
the  Dordsche  Kil,  and  the  archipelago  of  Bies-Bosch, 
and  is  crossed  by  the  New  Merwede,  a  large 
artificial  water-course.  .  The  imprisonment  of  this 
piece  of  land  on  which  Dordrecht  lies  is  an 
episode  in  one  of  the  great  battles  fought  by 
Holland  with  the  waters.  The  archipelago  of  Bies- 
Bosch  did  not  exist  before  the  fifteenth  century.  In 
its  place  there  was  a  beautiful  plain  covered  with 
populous  villages.  During  the  night  of  the  18th  of 
November,  1431,  the  waters  of  the  Waal  and  the 
Meuse  broke  the  dykes,  destroyed  more  than  seventy 
villages,  drowned  almost  a  hundred  thousand  souls, 
and  broke  up  the  plain  into  a  thousand  islands, 
leaving  in  the  midst  of  this  ruin  one  upright  tower 


ZEALAND.  53 

called  Merwede  House,  the  ruins  of  which  are 
still  visible.  Thus  -was  Dordrecht  separated  from 
the  continent,  and  the  archipelago  of  Bies-Bosch  made 
its  appearance,  which,  as  though  to  show  its  right  of 
existence,  provides  hay,  reeds,  and  rushes  to  a  little 
village  which  ham's  like  a  swallow's  nest  on  one  of 
the  neighboring  dykes.  But  this  is  not  all  that  is 
remarkable  in  the  history  of  Dordrecht.  Tradition 
relates,  many  believe,  and  some  uphold,  that  at 
the  time  of  this  remarkable  inundation  Dordrecht 
— yes,  the  whole  town  of  Dordrecht,  Avith  its 
houses,  mills,  and  canals — made  a  short  journey, 
like  an  army  moving  camp  ;  that  is  to  say,  it  was 
transported  from  one  place  to  another  with  its  foun- 
dations intact:  in  consequence  whereof  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  neighboring  villages,  coming  to  the 
town  after  the  catastrophe,  found  nothing  where 
it  had  been.  One  can  imagine  their  consternation. 
This  prodigy  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  Dor- 
drecht is  founded  on  a  stratum  of  clay,  which  had 
slipped  on  to  the  mass  of  turf  which  forms  the  basis 
of  the  soil.     Such  is  the  story  as  I  heard  it. 

Before  the  vessel  left  the  Noord  Canal  the  hope  of 
seeing  my  first  Dutch  sunset  was  disappointed  by 
another  sudden  change  in  the  weather.  The  sky 
was  obscured,  the  waters  became  livid,  and  the  hori- 
zon disappeared  behind  a  thick  veil  of  mist. 

The  ship  entered  the  Meuse,  and  turned  for  the 
tenth  time,  to  the  left.     At  this  point  the  Meuse  is 


54  ZEALAND. 

very  wide,  as  it  carries  away  and  imprisons  the 
waters  of  the  Waal,  the  largest  branch  of  the  Rhine, 
and  the  waters  of  the  Leek  and  Yssel  also  empty 
themselves  into  it.  Its  banks  are  flanked  on  either 
side  by  long  rows  of  trees,  and  are  dotted  with 
houses,  workshops,  manufactories,  and  arsenals, 
which  grow  thicker  as  Rotterdam  is  approached. 

However  little  acquainted  one  may  be  with  the 
physical  history  of  Holland,  the  first  time  one  sees 
the  Meuse  and  thinks  of  its  memorable  overflowings, 
of  the  thousand  calamities  and  innumerable  victims 
of  that  capricious  and  terrible  river,  one  regards  it 
with  a  sort  of  uneasy  curiosity,  much  as  one  looks  at 
a  famous  brigand.  The  eye  rests  on  the  dykes  with  a 
feeling  almost  of  satisfaction  and  gratitude,  as  on  the 
brigand  when  he  is  safely  handcuffed  and  in  the  hands 
of  the  police. 

While  my  eyes  were  roving  in  search  of  Rotter- 
dam, a  Dutch  passenger  told  how,  when  the  Meuse 
is  frozen,  the  currents,  coming  unexpectedly  from 
warmer  regions,  strike  the  ice  that  covers  the  river, 
break  it,  upheave  enormous  blocks  with  a  terrific 
crash,  and  hurl  them  against  the  dykes,  piling  them 
in  immense  heaps  which  choke  .the  course  of  the 
river  and  make  it  overflow.  Then  begins  a  strange 
battle.  The  Dutch  answer  the  threats  of  the  Meuse 
with  cannonade.  The  artillery  is  called  out,  volleys 
of  grape-shot  break  the  towers  and  barricades  of 
ice  which  oppose  the  current,  into  a  storm  of  splinters 


ZEALAND.  55 

and  briny  hail.  "  Wc  Hollanders,"  concluded  the 
passenger,  "  arc  the  only  people  who  have  to  take  up 
arms  against  the  rivers." 

When  avc  came  in  sight  of  Rotterdam  it  was 
growing  dark  and  drizzling.  Through  the  thick  mist 
I  could  barely  see  a  great  confusion  of  ships,  houses, 
windmills,  towers,  trees,  and  moving  figures  on 
dykes  and  bridges.  There  were  lights  everywhere, 
It  was  a  great  city  different  in  appearance  from  any 
I  had  seen  before,  but  fog  and  darkness  soon  hid 
it  from  my  view.  By  the  time  I  had  taken  leave 
of  my  fellow-travellers  and  had  gathered  my  lug- 
gage together,  it  was  night.  "  So  much  the  better," 
I  said  getting  into  a  cab.  "  I  shall  see  for  the 
first  time  a  Dutch  city  by  night ;  this  must  indeed 
be  a  novel  spectacle."  In  fact,  Bismarck,  when  at 
Rotterdam,  wrote  to  his  wife  that  at  night  he  saw 
"phantoms  on  the  roofs." 


ROTTERDAM. 


KOTTEEDAM. 


One  cannot  learn  much  about  Rotterdam  by  en- 
tering it  at  night.  The  cab  passed  directly  over  a 
bridge  that  gave  out  a  hollow  sound,  and  while  I 
believed  myself  to  be — and,  in  fact,  was — in  the  city, 
to  my  surprise  I  saw  on  either  side  a  row  of  ships 
which  were  soon  lost  in  the  darkness.  When  we  had 
crossed  the  bridge  we  drove  along  streets  brightly 
lighted  and  full  of  people,  and  reached  another 
bridge,  to  find  ourselves  between  other  rows  of  ships. 
So  we  went  on  for  some  time,  from  bridge  to 
street,  from  street  to  bridge.  To  increase  the  confu- 
sion, there  was  everywhere  an  illumination  such  as 
I  had  never  seen  before.  There  were  lamps  at  the 
corners  of  the  streets,  lanterns  on  the  ships,  beacons 
on  the  bridges,  lights  in  the  windows,  and  smaller 
lights  under  the  houses, — all  of  which  were  reflected 
by  the  water.  Suddenly  the  cab  stopped  in  the 
midst  of  a  crowd  of  people.  I  put  my  head  out  of 
the  window,  and  sawr  a  bridge  suspended  in  mid-air. 
I  asked  what  was  the  matter,  and  some  one  answered 
that  a  ship  was  passing.  In  a  moment  we  were 
again  on  our  way,  and  I  had  a  peep  at  a  tangle  of 

59 


GO  ROTTERDAM. 

canals  crossing  and  recrossing  each  other,  and  of 
bridges  that  seemed  to  form  a  large  square  full  of 
masts  and  studded  with  lights.  Then,  at  last,  we 
turned  a  corner  and  arrived  at  the  hotel. 

The  first  thing  I  did  on  entering  my  room  was  to 
examine  it  to  see  if  it  sustained  the  great  fame  of 
Dutch  cleanliness.  It  did  indeed ;  and  this  was  the 
more  to  be  admired  in  a  hotel,  almost  always 
occupied  by  a  profane  race,  which  has  no  reverence 
for  what  might  be  called  in  Holland  the  worship  of 
cleanliness.  The  linen  was  white  as  snow,  the  win- 
dows were  transparent  as  air,  the  furniture  shone 
like  crystal,  the  walls  were  so  clean  that  one  could 
not  have  found  a  spot  with  a  microscope.  Besides 
this,  there  was  a  basket  for  waste  paper,  a  little  tablet 
on  which  to  strike  matches,  a  slab  for  cigar-ashes, 
a  box  for  cigar-stumps,  a  spittoon,  a  boot-jack,  in 
short,  there  was  absolutely  no  excuse  for  soiling  any- 
thing. 

When  I  had  surveyed  my  room,  I  spread  the  map 
of  Rotterdam  on  the  table,  and  began  to  make  my 
plans  for  the  morrow. 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that  the  large  towns  of  Hoi- 
land  have  remarkably  regular  forms,  although  they 
were  built  on  unstable  land  and  with  great 
difficulty.  Amsterdam  is  a  semicircle,  the  Hague 
is  a  square,  Rotterdam  an  equilateral  triangle. 
The  base  of  the  triangle  is  an  immense  dyke, 
protecting    the    town    from  the   Meusc,  and  known 


ROTTERDAM.  Gl 

as  the  Boompjes,  which  in  Dutch  means  little 
trCos, — the  name  being  derived  from  a  row  of  elms 
that  were  planted  when  the  embankment  was  built, 
and  are  now  grown  to  a  great  size.  Another  large 
dyke,  dividing  the  city  into  two  almost  equal  parts, 
forms  a  second  bulwark  against  the  inundations  of 
the  river,  extending  from  the  middle  of  the  left  side 
of  the  triangle  to  the  opposite  angle.  The  part  of 
Rotterdam  which  lies  between  the  two  dykes  consists 
of  large  canals,  islands,  and  bridges :  this  is  the  mod- 
ern town  ;  the  other  part,  lying  beyond  the  second 
dyke,  is  the  old  town.  Two  large  canals  extend  along 
the  other  two  sides  of  the  city  up  to  the  vertex, 
where  they  join  and  meet  a  river  called  the  Rotte, 
which  name,  prefixed  to  the  word  dam,  meaning 
dyke,  gives  Rotterdam. 

When  I  had  thus  performed  my  duty  as  a  conscien- 
tious traveller,  and  had  observed  a  thousand  precau- 
tions against  defiling,  even  with  a  breath,  the  spotless 
purity  of  that  jewel  of  a  room,  I  entered  my  first 
Dutch  bed  with  the  timidity  of  a  country  bumpkin. 

Dutch  beds — 1  am  speaking  of  those  to  be  found  in 
the  hotels — are  usually  short  and  wide,  with  an 
enormous  eider-down  pillow  which  would  bury  the 
head  of  a  cyclops.  In  order  to  omit  nothing,  I  must 
add  that  the  light  is  generally  a  copper  candlestick 
as  large  as  a  plate,  which  might  hold  a  torch,  but 
contains  instead  a  short  candle  as  thin  as  the  little 
finger  of  a  Spanish  lady. 


62  ROTTERDAM. 

In  the  morning  I  dressed  in  haste,  and  ran  rapidly 
down  stairs. 

What  streets,  what  houses,  Avhat  a  town,  what  a 
mixture  of  novelties  for  a  foreigner, — a  scene  how 
different  from  any  to  be  witnessed  elsewhere  in 
Europe! 

First  of  all,  I  saw  Hoog-Straat,  a  long  straight 
roadway  running  along  the  inner  dyke  of  the  city. 

Most  of  the  houses  are  built  of  unplastered 
brick,  ranging  in  color  through  all  the  shades  of  red 
from  black  to  pink.  They  are  only  wide  enough  to 
give  room  for  two  windows,  and  are  but  two  stories 
in  height.  The  front  walls  overtop  and  conceal  the 
roofs,  running  up  and  terminating  in  blunted  tri- 
angles surmounted  by  gables.  Some  of  them  have 
pointed  facades,  some  are  elevated  in  two  curves,  and 
resemble  a  long  neck  without  a  head ;  others  are 
indented  step-fashion,  like  the  houses  children  build 
with  blocks  ;  others  look  like  conical  pavilions  ;  others 
like  country  churches ;  others,  again,  like  puppet- 
shows.  These  gables  are  generally  outlined  with 
white  lines  and  ornamented  in  execrable  taste;  many 
have  coarse  arabesques  painted  in  relief  on  plaster. 
The  windows,  and  the  doors  too,  are  bordered  with 
broad  white  lines;  there  are  other  white  lines  between 
the  different  stories  of  the  houses ;  the  spaces  between 
the  house-  and  shop-doors  are  filled  in  with  white 
woodwork  ;  so  all  alonjj  the  street  white  and  dark 
red  are  the  only  colors  to  be  seen.    From  a  distance  all 


ROTTERDAM.  63 

the  houses  produce  an  effect  of  black  trimmed  with 
strips  of  linen,  and  present  an  appearance  partly 
festal,  partly  funereal,  leaving  one  in  doubt  whether 
they  enliven  or  depress.  At  first  sight  I  felt  in- 
clined to  laugh :  it  seemed  impossible  that  these 
houses  were  not  playthings  and  that  serious  people 
could  live  inside  them.  I  should  have  said  that 
after  the  fete  for  which  they  had  been  constructed 
they  must  disappear  like  paper  frames  built  for  a 
display  of  fireworks. 

While  I  was  vaguely  regarding  the  street  I  saw  a 
house  which  amazed  me.  I  thought  I  must  be  mis- 
taken :  I  looked  at  it  more  closely, — looked  at  the 
houses  near  it,  compared  them  with  the  first  house 
and  then  with  each  other,  and  even  then  I  believed 
that  it  was  an  optical  illusion.  I  turned  hastily 
down  a  side  street,  and  still  I  seemed  to  see  the 
same  thing.  At  last  I  was  persuaded  that  the  fault 
was  not  with  my  eyes,  but  with  the  entire  city. 

All  Rotterdam  is  like  a  city  that  has  reeled  and 
rocked  in  an  earthquake,  and  has  still  remained  stand- 
ing, though  apparently  on  the  verge  of  ruin. 

All  the  houses — the  exceptions  in  each  street  are 
so  few  they  can  be  counted  on  one's  fingers — are  in- 
clined more  or  less,  and  the  greater  number  lean  so 
much  that  the  roof  of  one  projects  half  a  meter 
beyond  that  of  the  next  house  if  it  happens  to  be 
straight  or  but  slightly  inclined.  The  strangest  part 
of  it   all   is,   that   adjoining   houses  lean  in  different 


G4  ROTTERDAM. 

directions ;  one  will  lean  forward  as  if  it  were  going 
to  topple  over,  another  backward,  some  to  the  right, 
others  to  the  left.     In  some  places,  where  six  or  seven 
neighboring  houses  all  lean  forward,  those  in  the  mid- 
die  being  most  inclined,  thev  form  a  curve,  like  a  rail- 
ing  that  is  bent  by  the  pressure  of  a  crowd.     In  some 
places  two  houses  which  stand  close    together   bend 
toward  each  other,   as  if  for  mutual  support.     In  cer- 
tain  streets    for  some   distance  all    the   houses    lean 
sideways,  like  trees  which  the  wind  has  blown  one 
against   the  other ;   then  again,  they  all  lean  in  the 
opposite  direction,  like  another  row  of  trees  bent  by 
a  contrary  wind.     In  some  places  there  is  a  regularity 
in  the  inclination,  which  makes  the  effect  less   notice- 
able.      On    certain    crossways    and    in    some  of  the 
smaller  streets   there  is  an   indescribable   confusion, 
a  real  architectural  riot,  a  dance  of  houses,  a  disorder 
that  seems  animated.      There  are  houses  that  appear 
to  fall  forward,  overcome  by  sleep ;   others  that  throw 
themselves    backward    as    if   in    fright;    some    lean 
toward   each  other  till   their   roofs   almost  touch,  as 
if   thev   were    confiding    secrets ;   some   reel    against 
each   other  as   though   tipsy  ;  a  few   lean   backward 
between   others   that  lean   forward,  like  malefactors 
being  dragged  away  by  policemen.     Hows  of  houses 
seem  to  be  bowing  to  church-steeples  ;  other  groups 
arc    paying   attention   to  one  house   in  their  centre, 
and  seem  to  be  plotting  against  some  palace.     I  will 
soon  let  you  into  the  secret  of  all  this. 


flu  IRotter&am. 


ROTTERDAM.  65 

But  it  is  neither  the  shape  of  the  houses  nor  their 
inclination  that  seemed  to  me  the  most  curious  thing 
about  them. 

One  must  observe  them  carefully,  one  by  one, 
from  top  to  bottom,  and  in  their  diversity  they  are 
as  interesting  as  a  picture. 

In  some  of  the  houses,  in  the  middle  of  the  gable, 
at  the  top  of  the  facade,  a  crooked  beam  projects, 
fitted  with  a  pulley  and  a  piece  of  cord  to  raise  and 
lower  buckets  or  baskets.  In  others,  a  stag's,  sheep's, 
or  goat's  head  looks  down  from  a  little  round  win- 
dow.  Under  this  head  there  is  a  line  of  white- 
washed stones  or  a  wooden  beam  which  cuts  the 
facade  in  two.  Below  the  beam  there  are  two  large 
windows,  shaded  by  awnings  like  canopies,  under 
which  hang  little  green  curtains,  over  the  upper 
panes  of  the  window.  Under  the  green  curtain  are 
two  white  curtains,  draped  back  to  reveal  a  swinging 
bird-cage  or  a  hanging  basket  full  of  flowers.  Below 
this  floAver-basket  screening  the  lower  window-panes 
there  is  a  frame  with  a  very  fine  wire  netting,  which 
prevents  pedestrians  from  looking  into  the  rooms.  Be- 
hind the  wire  netting,  in  the  divisions  between  the 
netting  and  the  framework  of  the  window,  there  arc 
tables  ornamented  with  china,  glass,  flowers,  statuettes 
and  other  trifles.  On  the  stone  sills  of  windows 
which  open  into  the  street  there  is  a  row  of  little 
flower-pots.  In  the  middle  or  at  one  side  of  the 
window-sill  there  is  a  curved   iron  hook  which  sup- 


66  ROTTERDAM. 

ports  two  movable  mirrors  joined  like  the  backs  of 
a  book,  surmounted  by  a  third  movable  glass,  so 
arranged  that  from  within  the  house  one  can  see 
everything  that  happens  in  the  street  without  one's 
self  being  seen.  In  some  houses  a  lantern  projects 
between  the  windows.  Below  the  windows  is  the 
house-door  or  shop-door.  If  it  be  a  shop-door, 
there  will  be  carved  above  it  either  a  negro's  head 
with  the  mouth  wide  open  or  the  smirking  face  of  a 
Turk.  Sometimes  the  sign  is  an  elephant,  a  goose, 
a  horse's  head,  a  bull,  a  serpent,  a  half-moon,  a  wind- 
mill, and  sometimes  an  outstretched  arm  holding 
some  article  that  is  for  sale  in  the  shop.  If  it  be  a 
house-door — in  which  case  it  is  always  kept  closed — 
it  bears  a  brass  plate  on  which  is  written  the  name 
of  the  tenant,  another  plate  with  an  opening  for 
letters,  and  a  third  plate  on  the  wall  holding  the  bell- 
handle.  The  plates,  nails,  and  locks  are  all  kept 
shining  like  gold.  Before  the  door  there  is  fre- 
quently a  little  wooden  bridge — for  in  many  houses 
the  ground  floor  is  made  lower  than  the  street — and 
in  front  of  the  bridge  are  two  small  stone  pillars 
surmounted  by  two  balls ;  below  these  stand  other 
pillars  united  by  iron  chains  made  of  large  links  in 
the  shape  of  crosses,  stars,  and  polygons.  In  the 
space  between  the  street  and  the  house  are  pots  of 
flowers.  On  the  window-seats  of  the  basement, 
hidden  in  the  hollow,  are  more  flowers  and  curtains. 
In    the  less  frequented  streets    there  are  bird-cages 


ROTTERDAM.  67 

on  either  side  of  the  windows,  boxes  full  of  grow- 
ing plants,  clothes  and  linen  hung  out  to  dry.  In- 
deed, innumerable  articles  of  varied  colors  dangle 
and  swing  about,  so  that  it  all  seems  like  a  great 
fair. 

But  without  quitting  the  old  town  one  need  only 
walk  toward  its  outskirts  in  order  to  see  novel 
sights  at  every  step. 

In  passing  through  certain  of  the  straight,  nar- 
row streets  one  suddenly  sees  before  him,  as  it  were, 
a  curtain  that  has  fallen  and  cut  oif  the  view.  It  is 
immediately  withdrawn,  and  one  perceives  that  it 
is  the  sail  of  a  ship  passing  down  one  of  the 
canals.  At  the  foot  of  other  streets  a  network 
of  ropes  seems  to  be  stretched  between  the  twro  end 
houses  to  stop  the  passage.  This  is  the  rigging  of 
a  ship  that  is  anchored  at  one  of  the  docks.  On 
other  streets  there  are  drawbridges  surmounted  by 
long  parallel  boards,  presenting  a  fantastic  appear- 
ance, as  though  they  Avere  gigantic  swings  for  the 
amusement  of  the  light-hearted  people  living  in  these 
peculiar  houses.  Other  streets  have  at  the  foot 
windmills  as  high  as  a  steeple  and  black  as  an 
ancient  tower,  turning  and  twisting  their  arms 
like  large  wheels  revolving  over  the  roofs  of  the 
neighboring  houses.  Everywhere,  in  short,  among 
the  houses,  over  the  roofs,  in  the  midst  of 
the  distant  trees,  we  see  the  masts  of  ships,  pen- 
nons,  sails,   and  what    not,    to    remind    us    that    we 

Vol.  I. — 5 


68  ROTTERDAM. 

are  surrounded  by  water,  and  that  the  city  is  built  in 
the  very  middle  of  the  port. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  shops  have  opened  and  the 
streets  have  become  animated. 

There  is  a  great  stir  of  people,  who  are  busy, 
but  not  hurried:  this  absence  of  hurry  distinguishes 
the  streets  of  Rotterdam  from  those  of  certain 
parts  of  London,  -which,  from  the  color  of  the 
houses  and  the  serious  faces  of  the  citizens,  remind 
many  travellers  of  the  Dutch  city.  Faces  white  and 
pale — faces  the  color  of  Parmesan  cheese — faces 
encircled  by  hair  flaxen,  golden,  red,  and  yellowish — 
large  shaven  faces  with  beards  below  the  chin 
— eyes  so  light  that  one  has  to  look  closely 
to  see  the  pupil — sturdy  women,  plump,  pink- 
cheeked,  and  placid,  wearing  white  caps  and  earrings 
shaped  like  corkscrews, — such  are  the  first  things  one 
observes  in  the  crowd. 

But  my  curiosity  for  the  present  was  not  aroused 
by  the  people.  I  crossed  Iloog-Straat  and  found 
myself  in  new  Rotterdam. 

One  cannot  decide  whether  it  is  a  city  or  a  harbor, 
whether  there  is  more  land  than  water,  or  whether 
the  ships  are  more  numerous  than  the  houses. 

The  town  is  divided  by  long,  wide  canals  into 
many  islands,  which  are  united  by  drawbridges, 
turning  bridges,  and  stone  bridges.  From  both  sides 
of  each  canal  extend  two  streets,  with  rows  of  trees 
on  the  side  next  to  the  water  and  lines  of  houses  on 


ROTTERDAM.  69 

the  opposite  side.  Each  of  these  canals  forms  a  port 
where  the  water  is  deep  enough  to  float  the  largest  ves- 
sels, and  every  one  of  them  is  full  of  shipping  through- 
out its  length,  a  narrow  space  being  kept  clear  in  the 
middle  which  serves  as  a  thoroughfare  for  the  vessels. 
It  seems   like  a  great   fleet  imprisoned  in  a  town. 

I  arrived  at  the  hour  of  greatest  activity,  and 
took  my  stand  on  the  highest  bridge  of  the  principal 
crossway. 

Thence  I  could  see  four  canals,  four  forests  of 
ships,  flanked  on  either  side  by  eight  rows  of  trees. 

The  streets  were  encumbered  with  people  and  mer- 
chandise. Droves  of  cattle  passed  over  the  bridges, 
which  were  being  raised  and  swung  to  let  the  ships 
pass.  The  moment  they  closed  or  lowered  again 
fresh  crowds  of  people,  carriages,  and  carts  passed 
over  them.  Ships  as  fresh  and  shining  as  the  models 
in  a  museum  passed  in  and  out  of  the  canals,  carry- 
ing on  their  decks  the  wives  and  children  of  the 
sailors,  while  smaller  boats  glided  rapidly  from  ship 
to  ship.  Customers  thronged  the  shops.  Servants 
were  washing  the  walls  and  windows.  This  busy 
scene  with  all  its  movement  was  made  yet  more 
cheerful  by  its  reflection  in  the  water, — by  the  green 
of  the  trees,  the  red  of  the  houses,  by  the  high  wind- 
mills, whose  black  tops  and  white  wings  were  outlined 
against  the  blue  sky,  and  still  more  by  an  air  of 
repose  and  simplicity  never  seen  in  any  other 
northern   town. 


70  ROTTERDAM. 

I  examined  a  Dutch  ship  attentively. 

Almost  all  of  the  vessels  which  are  crowded  in  the 
canals  of  Rotterdam  sail  only  on  the  Rhine  and  in 
Holland.  They  have  only  one  mast,  and  are  broad 
and  strongly  built.  They  are  painted  in  various 
colors  like  toy  boats.  The  planks  of  the  hull  are 
generally  of  a  bright  grass  green,  ornamented  at  the 
edge  by  a  white  or  bright-red  stripe,  or  by  several 
stripes  which  look  like  broad  bands  of  different  col- 
ored ribbons.  The  poop  is  usually  gilded.  The 
decks  and  the  masts  are  varnished  and  polished  like 
the  daintiest  drawing-room  floor.  The  hatches,  the 
buckets,  the  barrels,  the  sailyards  and  the  small 
planks  are  all  painted  red,  and  striped  with  white 
or  blue.  The  cabin  in  which  the  families  of  the 
sailors  live  is  also  colored  like  a  Chinese  joss-house; 
its  windows  are  scrupulously  clean,  and  are  hung  with 
white  embroidered  curtains  tied  Avith  pink  ribbons. 
In  all  their  spare  moments  the  sailors,  the  women, 
and  the  children  are  washing,  brushing,  and  scrub- 
bing  everything  with  the  greatest  care;  and  when 
their  vessel  makes  its  exit  from  the  port,  all  bright 
and  pompous  like  a  triumphal  car,  they  stand  proud- 
ly erect  on  the  poop  and  search  for  a  mute  com- 
pliment in  the  eyes  of  the  people  who  are  gathered 
along  the  canal. 

1'assing  from  canal  to  canal,  from  bridge  to  bridge, 
I  arrived  at  the  dyke  of  the  Boompjes,  in  front  of 
the    Meuse,    where     is    centred     the     whole    life    of 


ROTTERDAM.  71 

this  great  commercial  town.  To  the  left  extends  a 
long  line  of  gay  little  steamers,  which  leave  every 
hour  of  the  day  for  Dordrecht,  Arnhem,  Gouda, 
Schiedam,  Briel,  and  Zealand.  They  are  continu- 
ally filling  the  air  with  the  lively  sound  of  their 
hells  and  with  clouds  of  white  smoke.  To  the  right 
are  the  larger  vessels  that  run  between  the  dif- 
ferent European  ports,  and  among  them  are  to  be 
seen  the  beautiful  three-masted  ships  that  sail  to  and 
from  the  East  Indies,  with  their  names,  Java,  Su- 
matra, Borneo,  Samarang,  written  on  them  in  letters 
of  gold,  brin<i'in<2;  to  the  imagination  those  far-off 
ports  and  savage  nations  like  the  echo  of  far-off 
voices.  In  front,  the  Meuse  is  crowded  by  numbers 
of  boats  and  barges,  while  its  opposite  bank  is  cov- 
ered with  a  forest  of  beech  trees,  windmills,  and 
workshop  chimneys.  Above  this  scene  is  a  restless 
sky,  Avith  flashes  of  light  mingling  with  ominous 
darkness,  with  scudding  clouds  and  chan^im;  forms, 
which  seemed  to  be  trying  to  reproduce  the  busy 
activity  of  the  earth. 

Rotterdam,  with  the  exception  of  Amsterdam,  is 
the  most  important  commercial  city  in  Holland.  It 
was  a  flourishing  commercial  town  as  early  as  the 
thirteenth  century.  Ludovico  Guicciardini,  in  his 
work  on  the  Netherlands  which  I  have  already  men- 
tioned, tells,  in  proof  of  the  riches  of  the  town,  that 
in  the  sixteenth  century  within  a  year  it  rebuilt  nine 
hundred  houses   which   had  been  destroyed  by  fire. 


72  ROTTERDAM. 

Bentivoglio,  in  his  history  of  the  "war  of  Flanders, 
calls  it  "  the  greatest  and  the  most  important  com- 
mercial town  that  Holland  possesses."  But  its 
greatest  prosperity  dates  only  from  1830;  that  is  to 
say,  after  the  separation  of  Holland  from  Belgium, 
which  brought  to  Rotterdam  all  that  prosperity  of 
which  it  deprived  her  rival,  Antwerp.  Her  situation 
is  most  advantageous.  By  means  of  the  Meuse  she 
communicates  with  the  sea,  and  this  river  can  carry 
the  largest  merchantmen  into  her  ports  in  a  few 
hours;  through  the  same  river  she  communicates 
with  the  Rhine,  which  brings  her  whole  forests  from 
the  mountains  of  Switzerland  and  Bavaria — an  im- 
mense quantity  of  timber,  which  in  Holland  is 
changed  into  ships,  dykes,  and  villages.  More  than 
eighty  splendid  ships  come  and  go  between  Rotter- 
dam and  India  in  the  space  of  nine  months.  From 
every  port  merchandise  pours  in  with  such  abun- 
dance that  it  has  to  be  divided  anions  the  neijrli- 
boring  towns.  Meanwhile,  Rotterdam  increases 
in  size :  the  citizens  are  now  constructing  vast 
new  store-houses,  and  are  now  working  on  a  huge 
bridge  which  will  span  the  Meuse  and  cross  the 
entire  town,  thus  extending  the  railway,  which  now 
stops  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  as  far  as  the 
gate  of  Delft,  where  it  will  join  the  railway  of  the 
Hague. 

In  short,   Rotterdam   has  a  more   brilliant  future 
than  Amsterdam,  and  for  a  long  time  has  been  feared 


ROTTERDAM.  73 

as  a  rival  by  her  elder  sister.  She  does  not  possess 
the  great  riches  of  the  capital,  but  she  is  more  indus- 
trious in  using  what  wealth  she  has;  she  risks,  dares, 
and  undertakes,  after  the  manner  of  a  young  and 
adventurous  city.  Amsterdam,  like  a  wealthy  mer- 
chant who  has  grown  cautious  after  a  life  of  daring 
speculations,  has  begun  to  doze  and  to  rest  on  her 
laurels.  To  briefly  characterize  the  three  Dutch 
cities,  it  may  be  said  that  one  makes  a  fortune  at 
Rotterdam,  one  consolidates  it  in  Amsterdam,  and 
one  spends  it  at  the  Hague. 

One  understands  from  this  why  Rotterdam  is 
rather  looked  down  upon  by  the  other  two  cities,  and 
is  regarded  as  a  parvenu.  But  there  is  yet  another 
reason  for  this :  Rotterdam  is  a  merchant  city  pure 
and  simple,  and  is  exclusively  occupied  with  her  own 
affairs.  She  has  but  a  small  aristocracy,  which  is 
neither  wealthy  nor  proud.  Amsterdam,  on  the  con- 
trary, holds  the  flower  of  the  old  merchant  princes. 
Amsterdam  has  great  picture-galleries, — she  fosters 
the  arts  and  literature ;  she  unites,  in  short,  distinc- 
tion and  wealth.  Notwithstanding  their  peculiar 
advantages,  these  sister  cities  are  mutually  jealous  ; 
they  antagonize  and  fret  each  other:  what  one  does 
the  other  must  do ;  what  the  government  grants  to 
one,  the  other  insists  upon  having.  At  the  present 
moment  (in  1874),  ^icy  arc  opening  to  the  sea  two 
canals  which  may  not  prove  serviceable;  but  that 
is    of    no    consequence :    the    government,   like    an 


74'  ROTTERDAM. 

indulgent  father,  must  satisfy  both  his  elder  and  his 
younger  daughter. 

After  I  had  seen  the  port,  I  went  along  the 
Boompjes  dyke,  on  which  stands  an  uninterrupted 
line  of  large  new  houses  built  in  the  Parisian  and 
London  style — houses  which  the  inhabitants  greatly 
admire,  but  which  the  stranger  regards  with  disap- 
pointment or  neglects  altogether ;  I  turned  back, 
re-entered  the  city,  and  went  from  canal  to  canal, 
from  bridge  to  bridge,  until  I  reached  the  an^le 
formed  by  the  union  of  Iloog-Straat  with  one  of 
the  two  long  canals  which  enclose  the  town 
toward  the  east. 

This  is  the  poorest  part  of  the  town. 

I  went  down  the  first  street  I  came  to,  and  took 
several  turns  in  that  quarter  to  observe  how  the 
lower  classes  of  the  Dutch  live.  The  streets  were 
extremely  narrow,  and  the  houses  were  smaller  and 
more  crooked  than  those  in  any  other  part  of  the 
city ;  one  could  reach  many  of  the  roofs  with  one's 
hand.  The  windows  were  little  more  than  a  span 
from  the  ground ;  the  doors  Avcre  so  low  that  one 
was  obliged  to  stoop  to  enter  them.  But  neverthe- 
less there  was  not  the  least  sign  of  poverty. 
Even  there  the  windows  were  provided  with  looking- 
glasses — spies,  as  the  Dutch  call  them  ;  on  the  win- 
dow-sills there  were  pots  of  flowers  protected  by 
green  railings;  there  were  white  curtains, — the  doors 
were  painted  green  or  blue,  and  stood  wide  open,  so 


ROTTERDAM.  75 

that  one  could  sec  the  bed-rooms,  the  kitchens,  all 
the  recesses  of  the  houses.  The  rooms  were  like 
little  boxes;  everything  was  heaped  up  as  in  an  old- 
clothes  shop,  but  the  copper  vessels,  the  stoves,  the 
furniture,  were  all  as  clean  and  bright  as  those  in  a 
gentleman's  house.  As  I  passed  along  these  streets,  I 
did  not  see  a  bit  of  dirt  anywhere, — I  met  with  no  bad 
smells,  nor  did  I  see  a  rag,  or  a  hand  extended  for 
alms ;  one  breathes  cleanliness  and  well-being,  and 
thinks  with  shame  of  the  squalid  quarters  in 
which  the  lower  classes  swarm  in  our  cities,  and 
not  in  ours  only,  for  Paris  too  has  its  Rue 
Mouffetard. 

Turning  back  to  my  hotel,  I  passed  through  the 
square  of  the  great  new  market.  It  is  placed  in  the 
centre  of  the  city,  and  is  not  less  strange  than  all 
that  surrounds   it. 

It  is  an  open  square  suspended  over  the  water, 
being  at  the  same  time  a  square  and  a  bridge.  The 
bridge  is  very  wide  and  unites  the  principal  dyke — 
the  Hoog-Straat — with  a  section  of  the  town  sur- 
rounded by  canals.  This  aerial  square  is  enclosed  on 
three  sides  by  venerable  buildings,  between  which 
runs  a  street  long,  narrow,  and  dark,  entirely  fdled 
by  a  canal,  and  reminding  one  of  a  highway  in 
Venice.  On  the  fourth  side  is  a  sort  of  dock 
formed  by  the  widest  canal  in  the  city,  which  leads 
directly  to  the  Meuse.  In  this  square,  surrounded 
by   carts    and    stalls,   in    the  midst  of  heaps  of  vege- 


76  ROTTERDAM. 

tables,  oranges  and  earthenware,  encircled  by  a 
crowd  of  hucksters  and  peddlers,  enclosed  by  a  rail- 
ing covered  with  matting  and  rags,  stands  the  statue 
of  Desiderius  Erasmus,  the  first  literary  celebrity  of 
Rotterdam. 

This  Gerrit  Gerritz — for,  like  all  the  great  writers 
of  his  time,  he  assumed  the  Latin  name — this  Gerrit 
Gerritz  belonged  by  his  education,  by  his  literary 
attainments,  and  by  his  convictions  to  the  circle  of 
the  Italian  humanists  and  literati.  An  elegant, 
learned,  and  indefatigable  writer  on  literature  and 
science,  he  filled  all  Europe  with  his  fame  between 
the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries;  he  was  over- 
whelmed with  favor  by  the  popes,  sought  after  and 
feted  by  princes.  Of  his  innumerable  works,  all  of 
which  were  written  in  Latin,  the  "Praise  of  Folly," 
dedicated  to  Sir  Thomas  More,  is  still  read.  The 
bronze  statue,  erected  in  1G22,  represents  Erasmus 
dressed  in  a  fur  cloak  and  cap.  The  figure  is  slightly 
bent  forward  as  if  he  were  walking,  and  he  holds 
in  his  hand  a  large  open  book,  from  which  he  is 
reading.  There  is  a  double  inscription  on  the 
pedestal  in  Latin  and  Dutch,  which  calls  him  vir 
grpdili  sui primarius  et  civis  omnium  2^ccstantissimus. 
Notwithstanding  this  pompous  eulogy,  poor  Erasmus, 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  market-place  like  a  munici- 
pal guard,  excites  our  compassion.  There  is  not,  I 
believe,  on  the  face  of  the  earth  another  statue  of  a 
scholar  that  is  so  neglected  by  those  who  pass  it,  so  de- 


ROTTERDAM.  77 

spiscd  by  those  who  surround  it.  and  so  pitied  by  those 
who  look  at  it.  However,  who  knows  but  that  Erasmus, 
subtle  professor  that  he  was  and  will  ever  be,  is  eon- 
tented  with  his  corner,  if  indeed,  as  tradition  tells, 
it  l»o  not  far  from  his  house?  In  a  little  street 
near  the  square,  in  the  wall  of  a  small  house  whieh 
is  now  used  as  a  tavern,  there  is  to  be  seen  in  a 
niche  a  bronze  statuette  of  the  great  writer,  and 
under  it  runs  the  inscription :  Ilcec  eat  parva  domus 
magnus  qua  natus  Erasmus.  Eight  out  of  ten  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Rotterdam  have  probably  never  seen 
nor  read  it. 

In  an  angle  of  the  same  square  is  a  small  house 
called  "The  House  of  Fear,"  where  upon  the  wall  is 
a  picture  whose  subject  I  have  forgotten.  According 
to  the  tradition  it  is  called  "  The  House  of  Fear," 
because  the  most  prominent  people  of  the  city  took 
shelter  in  it  when  Rotterdam  was  sacked  by  the 
Spaniards,  and  were  imprisoned  in  it  three  days  with- 
out food.  This  is  not  the  only  record  of  the  Span- 
iards to  be  found  in  Rotterdam.  Many  buildings, 
erected   during   the    time  of   their  dominion  surest 

o  on 

the  style  of  architecture  then  fashionable  in  Spain, 
and  many  still  bear  Spanish  inscriptions.  In  the 
cities  of  Holland  inscriptions  on  the  houses  are  very 
common.  The  buildings,  like  old  wine,  glory  in  their 
antiquity  and  declare  the  date  of  their  construction 
in  large  letters  on  the  facades. 

In  the  market  square  I  had  every  opportunity  of 


78  ROTTERDAM. 

observing  the  earrings  of  the  women,  which  deserve 
to  be  minutely  described. 

At  Rotterdam,  I  saw  only  the  earrings  which  arc 
worn  in  South  Holland,  but  even  in  this  province 
alone  the  variety  is  very  great.  However,  they  are 
all  alike  in  this  respect, — instead  of  hanging  from 
the  ears,  they  are  attached  to  a  gold,  silver,  or  gilded 
copper  semicircle,  which  girds  the  head  like  a  half 
diadem,  its  extremities  resting  on  the  temples.  The 
commonest  earrings  are  in  the  form  of  a  spiral  with 
five  or  six  circles;  they  are  often  very  wide,  and  are 
attached  to  the  two  ends  of  the  semicircle.  They 
project  in  front  of  the  face  like  the  frames  of  a  pair 
of  spectacles.  Many  of  the  women  wear  another  pair 
of  ordinary  earrings  attached  to  the  spirals.  These 
are  very  lan;e  and  reach  almost  to  the  bosom, 
dangling  in  front  of  the  cheeks  like  the  head-gear  of 
Italian  oxen.  Some  women  wear  golden  circles  which 
gird  the  forehead  also,  and  are  chased  and  ornament- 
ed in  relief  with  leaves,  studs,  and  buttons.  They 
nearly  all  dress  their  hair  smooth  and  tight,  and 
wear  white  caps  embroidered  and  trimmed  with  lace. 
These  fit  the  head  closely  like  a  night-cap,  and  cover 
the  neck  and  shoulders,  descending  in  the  form  of  a 
veil,  which  is  also  embroidered  and  trimmed  with 
lace.  These  flowing  veils,  resembling  those  of  the 
Arabs,  and  the  peculiar  and  enormous  earrings, 
give  these  women  an  appearance  partly  regal  and 
partly  barbarous.     If  they  were  not   so   fair   as  they 


ROTTERDAM.  79 

arc,  one  would  take  them  for  women  of  some  savage 
land  who  had  still  preserved  the  ornaments  of  their 
native  dress.  I  am  not  surprised  that  some  travel- 
lers, seeing  these  earrings  for  the  first  time,  have 
thought  that  they  were  at  once  an  ornament  and 
an  instrument,  and  have  asked  their  use.  One 
might  suppose  that  they  arc  made  thus  for  another 
purpose  than  that  of  beautifying  the  wearer — that 
they  may  serve  as  a  defence  to  female  modesty.  For 
if  any  impertinent  person  should  attempt  to  salute  a 
cheek  so  guarded,  he  would  encounter  these  obstacles 
and  be  kept  at  bay  some  distance  from  the  coveted 
object.  These  earrings,  which  are  worn  chiefly  by 
the  peasant-women,  are  nearly  all  made  of  gold,  and 
because  of  the  size  of  the  spirals  and  of  the  other 
accessories  they  cost  a  large  sum.  But  I  saw  signs 
of  even  greater  riches  amongst  the  Dutch  peasantry 
during  my  country  rambles. 

Near  the  market  square  stands  the  cathedral,  which 
was  founded  toward  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century 
at  the  time  of  the  decadence  of  Gothic  architecture. 
It  was  then  a  Catholic  church  consecrated  to  St, 
Lawrence ;  now  it  is  the  first  Protestant  church  in 
the  city.  Protestantism,  with  religious  vandalism, 
entered  the  ancient  church  with  a  pickaxe  and  a 
whitewash  brush,  and  with  bigoted  fanaticism  broke, 
scraped,  rasped,  plastered,  and  destroyed  all  that  was 
beautiful  and  splendid,  and  reduced  it  to  a  bare, 
white,  cold  edifice,  such  as  ought  to  have  been  devot- 


SO  ROTTERDAM. 

ed  to  the  Goddess  of  Ennui  in  the  time  of  the  False 
and  Lying  Gods.  In  the  cathedral  there  is  an  im- 
mense organ  with  nearly  five  thousand  pipes,  which 
gives,  besides  other  sounds,  the  effect  of  the  echo. 
There  are  also  the  tombs  of  a  few  admirals,  decorated 
with  long  epitaphs  in  Dutch  and  Latin.  Besides 
these  I  saw  nothing  but  a  great  many  benches,  some 
b;>ys  with  their  hats  on,  a  group  of  women  who  were 
chattering  loudlv,  and  an  old  man  with  a  cigar  in  his 
mouth.  This  was  the  first  Protestant  church  I  had 
entered,  and  I  must  confess  I  felt  a  disagreeable  sen- 
sation, partly  of  sadness,  partly  of  scandal.  I  coin- 
pared  the  dismantled  appearance  of  this  church  with 
the  magnificent  cathedrals  of  Italy  and  Spain,  where 
a  soft  and  mysterious  light  shines  from  the  Avails,  and 
where  one  meets  the  loving  looks  of  angels  and  saints 
through  the  clouds  of  incense  directing  one's  gaze 
toward  heaven  ;  where  one  sees  so  many  pictures  of 
innocence  that  calm  one,  so  many  images  of  pain  that 
help  one  to  suffer,  that  inspire  one  with  resignation, 
peace,  and  the  sweetness  of  pardon ;  where  the  poor, 
without  food  or  shelter,  spurned  from  the  rich  man's 
gate,  may  pray  amid  marble  and  gold,  as  if  in  a 
palace, — where,  surrounded  by  a  pomp  and  splendor 
that  do  not  humiliate,  but  rather  honor  and  comfort 
their  misery,  they  are  not  despised; — those  cathe- 
drals, finally,  where  as  children  we  knelt  beside  our 
mothers,  and  felt  for  the  first  time  a  sweet  assurance 
that   we  should   s  »me    day  live  afresh   in   those   deep 


Interior  of  tbe  Cburcb  of  St*  Xawrence, 
IRotterOam. 


ROTTERDAM.  81 

azure  spaces  that  Ave  saw  painted  in  the  dome  sus- 
pended above  us.  Comparing  this  church  with 
those  cathedrals,  I  perceived  that  I  was  more  of  a 
Catholic  than  I  had  believed  myself  to  be,  and  I  felt 
the  truth  of  those  words  of  Castelar :  "Well, 
yes,  I  am  a  free-thinker,  but  if  some  day  I  were 
to  return  to  a  religion,  I  would  return  to  the 
splendid  one  of  my  fathers,  and  not  to  this  squalid 
and  nude  doctrine  that  saddens  my  eyes  and  my 
heart." 

From  the  top  of  the  tower  one  gets  a  bird's-eye 
view  of  the  whole  city  of  Rotterdam  with  its  steep 
little  red  roofs,  its  wide  canals,  its  ships  stand- 
in  g  out  against  the  houses,  and  all  around  the 
city  a  boundless  plain  of  vivid  green  traversed  by 
canals,  fringed  with  trees,  dotted  with  windmills  and 
villages  hidden  in  masses  of  verdure  and  showing 
only  the  points  of  their  steeples.  At  that  moment  the 
sky  was  clear,  and  it  was  possible  to  see  the  gleam- 
ing waters  of  the  Mouse  from  Bois-le-Duc  almost  to 
its  mouth.  I  distinguished  the  steeples  of  Dor- 
drecht, Leyden,  Delft,  the  Hague,  and  Gouda;  but 
nowhere,  either  near  or  far  off,  Avas  there  a  hill, 
a  rise  in  the  ground,  or  a  curve  to  break  the  straight 
even  lino  of  the  horizon.  It  was  like  a  sea,  green 
and  motionless,  on  which  the  steeples  were  the  masts 
of  anchored  ships.  The  eye  wandered  over  that 
vast  plain  with  a  sense  of  repose,  and  for  the  first 
time  I  experienced  that  indefinable  feeling  which  the 


82  ROTTERDAM. 

Dutch  landscape  inspires.  It  is  a  feeling  neither  of 
sadness,  of  pleasure,  nor  of  weariness,  yet  it  embraces 
them  all,  and  holds  one  for  a  long  time  motionless, 
without  knowing  at  first  what  one  is  looking  at  or  of 
what  one  is  thinking.  I  was  suddenly  aroused  by 
strange  music;  at  first  I  could  not  tell  whence  it  came. 
Bells  were  ringing  a  lively  chime  with  silvery  notes, 
now  breaking  slowly  on  the  ear,  as  if  they  could  scarce- 
ly detach  themselves  from  each  other;  now  blending  in 
groups,  in  strange  flourishes ;  now  trilling,  and  swell- 
ing sonorously.  The  music  was  merry  and  fantastic, 
although  of  a  somewhat  primitive  character,  it  is  true, 
like  the  many-colored  town  over  which  it  poured  its 
notes  like  a  flight  of  birds  ;  indeed,  it  seemed  to  harm- 
onize so  well  with  the  character  of  the  city  that  it  ap- 
peared to  be  its  natural  voice,  an  echo  of  the  quaint 
life  of  the  people,  reminding  me  of  the  sea,  the  soli- 
tude, and  the  cottages,  and  at  the  same  time  it  amused 
me  and  touched  my  heart.  All  at  once  the  music 
stopped  and  the  hour  struck.  At  the  same  moment 
other  steeples  flung  on  the  air  other  chimes,  of  which 
only  the  highest  notes  reached  me,  and  Avhen  their 
chimes  were  ended  they  likewise  struck  the  hour. 
This  aerial  concert,  as  I  was  told  when  its  mechanism 
was  explained  to  me,  is  repeated  at  every  hour  in  the 
day  and  night  by  all  the  steeples  of  Holland,  and  the 
chimes  are  national  airs,  psalms,  Italian  and  German 
melodies.  Thus  in  Holland  the  hour  sings,  as  though 
to  draw  the  mind  from  contemplating  the  flight  of 


ROTTERDAM.  83 

time,  and  it  sings  of  country,  of  religion,  and  of  love, 
with   a  harmony  surpassing  all  the  sounds  of  earth. 

Now,  to  continue  in  order  my  story  of  what  I  saw 
and  did,  I  must  conduct  my  readers  to  a  coffee- 
house and  beg  them  to  sit  beside  me  at  my  first 
Dutch   dinner. 

The  Dutch  are  great  eaters.  Their  greatest 
pleasure,  as  Cardinal  Bentivoglio  has  said,  is  to  be 
at  a  feast  or  at  some  repast.  But  they  are  not 
epicures;  they  are  voracious:  they  prefer  quantity 
to  quality.  Even  in  ancient  times  they  were  famous 
among  their  neighbors,  not  only  for  the  roughness 
of  their  habits,  but  for  the  simplicity  of  their  diet. 
They  were  called  eaters  of  milk  and  cheese.  They 
usually  eat  five  times  a  day.  When  they  rise  they 
take  tea,  coffee,  milk,  bread,  cheese,  butter ;  shortly 
before  noon  comes  a  good  breakfast;  before  dinner 
they  partake  of  some  light  nourishment,  such  as  a 
glass  of  wine  and  biscuits;  then  follows  a  heavy 
dinner;  and  late  in  the  evening,  to  use  their  own 
words,  some  trifle,  so  as  not  to  go  to  bed  with  an 
empty  stomach.  They  eat  in  company  on  many  oc- 
casions. I  do  not  mean  on  the  occasions  of  christen- 
ings or  marriages,  as  in  other  countries,  but,  for 
example,  at  funerals.  It  is  the  custom  that  the 
friends  and  relatives  who  have  accompanied  the  fu- 
neral procession  shall  go  home  with  the  family  of  the 
deceased,  where  they  arc  then  invited  to  eat  and 
drink,  and   they  generally  do    great   honor    to   their 

Vol.  I.— 6 


84  ROTTERDAM. 

hosts.  If  there  were  no  other  witnesses,  the  Dutch 
paintings  are  there  to  testify  to  the  great  part  eat- 
ing has  always  played  in  the  life  of  this  people.  Be- 
sides the  infinite  number  of  domestic  subjects,  in  which 
we  might  say  that  dishes  and  bottles  are  the  protago- 
nists, nearly  all  the  large  pictures  representing  his- 
torical personages,  burgomasters,  and  national  guard, 
show  them  seated  at  table  in  the  act  of  eating,  carving, 
or  pouring  out-  wine.  Even  their  hero,  William 
the  Silent,  the  incarnation  of  New  Holland,  shared 
this  national  love  of  the  table.  He  had  the  first 
cook  of  his  time,  who  was  so  great  an  artist 
that  the  German  princes  sent  beginners  to  per- 
fect themselves  at  his  school,  and  Philip  II.,  in 
one  of  those  periods  of  apparent  reconciliation  with 
his  mortal  enemy,  begged  for  him  as  a  present. 

But,  as  I  said,  the  principal  characteristic  of  the 
Dutch  kitchen  is  abundance,  not  delicacy.  The 
French,  who  are  bon-vivants,  find  much  to  criticise. 
I  remember  a  writer  of  certain  Memoires  sur  la  Hol- 
Jande  who  inveighs  with  lyrical  fervor  against  the 
Dutch  cuisine,  saying,  "What  style  of  eating  is  this? 
They  mix  soup  and  beer,  meat  and  comfits,  and 
devour  quantities  of  meat  without  bread."  Other 
writers  of  books  about  Holland  have  spoken  of 
their  dinners  in  that  country  as  if  they  were  domes- 
tic misfortunes.  It  is  superfluous  to  say  that  all 
these  statements  are  exaggerations.  Even  a  fastidi- 
ous  palate  can  in   a  very  short   time  accustom  itself 


ROTTERDAM.  85 

to  the  Dutch  stylo  of  cooking.  The  substantial  part 
of  the  dinner  is  always  a  dish  of  meat,  with  which 
four  or  five  side  dishes  of  salt  meat  and  vegetables 
are  served.  These  every  one  mixes  according  to  his 
taste  and  eats  with  the  principal  dish.  The  meats 
are  excellent,  the  vegetables,  which  are  cooked  in  a 
thousand  different  ways,  are  even  better.  Those 
which  they  cook  in  an  especially  worthy  manner  are 
potatoes  and  cabbages,  and  their  way  of  making  ome- 
lets is  admirable.  I  do  not  speak  of  game,  fish,  milk- 
foods,  and  butter,  because  their  praises  need  not  be 
repeated,  and  I  am  silent  for  fear  of  being  too  enthusi- 
astic about  that  celebrated  cheese  into  which,  when 
once  one  has  plunged  one's  knife,  one  continues  with 
a  sort  of  increasing  fury,  thrusting  and  gashing  and 
abandoning  one's  self  to  every  style  of  slashing  and 
gouging  until  the  rind  is  empty,  and  desire  still 
hovers  over  the  ruins. 

A  stranger  who  dines  for  the  first  time  in  a  Dutch 
restaurant  sees  a  number  of  strange  things.  In  the 
first  place,  the  plates  are  very  large  and  heavy,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  national  appetite ;  in  many  places  the 
napkins  are  of  very  thin  white  paper,  folded  at  three 
corners,  and  ornamented  with  a  printed  border  of  Aoav- 
ers,  with  a  little  landscape  in  the  corner,  and  the  name 
of  the  restaurant,  or  Bon  appetit,  printed  on  them  in 
lan;e  blue  letters.  The  stranger,  to  be  sure  of  hav- 
ing  something  he  can  cat,  orders  roast  beef,  and  they 
bring    him  half  a    dozen  great   slices    as  large  as   a 


8G  ROTTERDAM. 

cabbage  leaf;  or  a  steak,  and  they  bring  him  a  lump 
of  very  rare  meat  which  would  suffice  for  a  family ; 
or  fish,  and  they  set  before  him  an  animal  as  long 
as  the  table ;  and  each  of  these  dishes  is  accom- 
panied by  a  mountain  of  mashed  potatoes  and  a  pot 
of  strong  mustard.  They  give  him  a  slice  of  bread 
a  little  larger  than  a  dollar  and  as  thin  as  a  wafer. 
This  is  not  pleasant  for  us  Italians,  who  eat  bread 
like  beggars,  so  that  in  a  Dutch  restaurant,  to  the 
great  surprise  of  the  waiters,  we  are  obliged  to  ask 
for  more  bread  every  moment.  On  any  one  of  these 
three  dishes  and  a  glass  of  Bavarian  or  Amsterdam 
beer  a  man  may  venture  to  say  he  has  dined.  Any  one 
who  has  a  lean  pocket-book  need  not  dream  of  wine 
in  Holland,  for  it  is  frightfully  dear;  but,  as  the 
people's  purses  there  are  generally  well  filled,  nearly 
all  the  Dutch,  from  the  middle  class  up,  drink  wine,  and 
there  are  few  other  countries  where  there  is  so  great 
an  abundance  and  variety  of  foreign  wines,  partic- 
ularly of  those  from  French  and  Rhenish  vineyards. 
Those  who  like  liqueurs  after  dinner  are  well 
served  in  Holland.  There  is  no  need  to  mention 
that  the  Dutch  liqueurs  are  famous  the  world 
over.  The  most  famous  of  them  all  is  "  Schie- 
dam." an  extract  of  juniper-berries  that  takes  its 
name  from  the  little  town  of  Schiedam,  only  a  few 
miles  from  Rotterdam,  where  there  are  more  than 
two  hundred  distilleries.  To  give  an  idea  of 
the    quantity     made,    it    is    sufficient    to    say   that 


ROTTERDAM.  87 

thirty  thousand  pigs  are  fed  annually  on  the  dregs  of 
the  distilled  material.  The  first  time  one  tastes  this 
renowned  Schiedam  he  swears  he  will  never  take 
another  drop  of  it  it"  he  lives  to  be  a  hundred  years 
old ;  but,  as  the  French  proverb  savs,  "  Who  has 
drunk  will  drink  again,"  and  one  begins  to  try  it  with 
a  great  deal  of  sugar, — then  with  a  little  less, — 
then  with  none  at  all,  until,  horribile  dictu  !  under  the 
excuse  of  the  damp  and  the  fog  one  tosses  down  two 
small  glasses  with  the  freedom  of  a  sailor.  Next  on 
the  list  comes  Curacoa,  a  fine  feminine  liqueur,  not 
nearly  so  strong  as  Schiedam,  but  much  stronger  than 
that  nauseating  sweetened  s-tuff  that  is  sold  in  other 
countries  under  the  recommendation  of  its  name. 
After  Curacoa  there  are  many  others  liqueurs,  of 
every  gradation  of  strength  and  flavor,  with  which  an 
expert  winebibber  can  indulge  in  every  style  of 
intoxication,  slight,  heavy,  noisy,  or  stupid,  and 
whereby  he  can  dispose  his  brain  to  see  the 
world  in  the  manner  most  pleasing  to  his  humor, 
much  as  one  would  do  with  an  optical  instrument  by 
changing   the   color  of  the   lens. 

The  first  time  one  dines  in  Holland  a  curious  sur- 
prise awaits  one  when  the  bill  is  paid.  I  had  eaten 
a  dinner  which  would  have  been  scanty  for  a 
Batavian,  but  was  ample  for  an  Italian,  and, 
knowing  how  very  dear  everything  is  in  Holland,  I 
was  waiting  for  one  of  those  lulls  to  which  Theophile 
Gautier   says  the  only  reasonable  answer  is  a  pistol- 


88  ROTTERDAM. 

shot.  I  was  therefore  pleasantly  surprised  when 
the  waiter  said  I  was  to  pay  forty  sous,  and,  as  all 
kinds  of  money  circulate  in  the  large  Dutch  cities, 
I  put  on  the  table  forty  sous  in  silver  francs,  and 
waited  to  give  my  friend  time  to  correct  me  if  he 
had  made  a  mistake.  But  he  looked  at  the 
money  without  giving  any  sign  of  correcting  him- 
self, and  said  with  the  greatest  gravity,  "Forty 
sous  more."  Springing  from  my  chair,  I  demand- 
ed an  explanation.  The  explanation,  alas !  was 
simple.  The  monetary  unit  in  Holland  is  the  florin, 
which  is  equal  to  two  francs  four  centimes  in  our 
money,  so  that  the  Dutch  centime  and  sou  are 
worth  more  than  double  the  Italian  centime  and 
sou  ;  hence  the  mistake  and  its  correction. 

Rotterdam  at  night  presents  to  the  stranger 
an  unexpected  appearance.  In  other  northern  towns 
at  a  certain  hour  the  life  is  gathered  within  doors; 
in  Rotterdam  at  the  corresponding  hour  it  over- 
flows into  the  street.  A  dense  crowd  passes  through 
the  Hoog-Straat  until  late  at  night.  The  shops  are 
open,  for  then  the  servants  make  their  purchases  and 
the  coffee-houses  are  crowded.  The  Dutch  coffee- 
houses are  of  a  peculiar  shape.  They  usually  consist 
of  one  long  saloon,  divided  in  the  middle  by  a  green 
curtain,  which  is  drawn  at  night,  like  the  curtain 
of  a  theatre,  hiding  all  the  back  part  of  the  room. 
This  part  only  is  lighted.  The  front  part,  separated 
from   the  street  by   a   large  window,   remains  in  the 


ROTTERDAM.  89 

dark,  so  that  from  the  outside  one  can  sec  only  dim 
forms  and  the  glowing  ends  of  cigars,  which  look 
like  lire-Hies,  and  among  these  shadowy  forms  appeal's 
the  uncertain  profile  of  some  woman,  to  whom 
light  would  be   unwelcome. 

After  the  coffee-houses,  the  tobacco-shops  attract  the 
attention,  not  only  in  Rotterdam,  but  in  all  other  Dutch 
cities.  There  is  one  at  almost  every  step,  and  they 
are  beyond  comparison  the  finest  in  Europe,  not  ex- 
cepting even  the  great  Havana  tobacco-stores  in 
Madrid.  The  cigars  are  kept  in  wooden  boxes,  on 
each  of  which  is  a  printed  portrait  of  the  king  or 
queen  or  of  some  illustrious  Dutch  citizen.  These 
boxes  are  arranged  in  the  high  shop-windows  in  a 
thousand  architectural  styles, — in  towers,  steeples, 
temples,  winding  staircases,  beginning  on  the  floor 
and  reaching  almost  to  the  ceiling.  In  these  shops, 
which  are  resplendent  with  lights  like  the  stores  of 
Paris,  one  may  find  cigars  of  every  shape  and  flavor. 
The  courteous  tobacconist  puts  one's  purchase  into 
a  special  tissue-paper  envelope  after  he  has  cut  off 
the  end  of  one  of  the  cigars  with  a  machine  made  for 
the  purpose. 

The  Dutch  shops  arc  brilliantly  illuminated,  and, 
although  in  themselves  they  do  not  differ  materially 
from  stores  of  other  large  European  cities,  they  pre- 
sent at  night  a  very  unusual  appearance,  because  of 
the  contrast  between  the  ground  floor  and  the  upper 
part  of  the  house.      Below,  all   is  glass,  light,   color, 


90  ROTTERDAM. 

and  splendor;  above,  the  gloomy  facades  with  their 
steep  sharp  lines,  steps,  and  curves.  The  upper  part 
of  the  house  is  plain,  dark,  and  silent — in  a  word, 

ancient    Holland ;  the  ground  floor  is  the  new  life 

fashion,  luxury,  and  elegance.  Moreover,  the  houses 
are  all  very  narrow,  so  the  shops  occupy  the  whole 
ground  floor,  and  are  generally  so  close  together 
that  they  touch  each  other.  Consequently  at  night, 
in  streets  like  Hoog-Straat,  one  sees  very  little  wall 
below  the  second  floor.  The  houses  seem  to  rest 
en  glass,  and  in  the  distance  the  windows  become 
blended  into  two  long  flaming  stripes  like  gleaming 
hedges,  flooding  the  streets  with  light,  so  that  one 
could  find  a  pin  in  them. 

As  one  walks  along  the  streets  of  Rotterdam  in  the 
evening,  one  sees  that  it  is  a  city  overflowing  with  life 
and  in  the  process  of  expansion — a  city,  so  to  speak,  in 
the  flush  of  youth,  in  the  time  of  growth,  which,  from 
year  to  year,  outgrows  its  streets  and  houses,  as  a  boy 
outgrows  his  clothes.  Its  one  hundred  and  fourteen 
thousand  inhabitants  will  be  two  hundred  thousand  at 
no  distant  time.  The  smaller  streets  swarm  with  chil- 
dren ;  indeed,  they  are  filled  to  overflowing  with  them, 
so  that  it  gladdens  one's  eyes  and  heart.  An  air  of 
happiness  breathes  through  the  streets  of  Rotterdam. 
The  white  and  ruddy  faces  of  the  servants,  whose 
spotless  caps  are  popping  out  everywhere,  the  serene 
faces  of  the  tradespeople,  who  slowly  sip  their  great 
mugs  of  beer,  the   peasants  with    their  large  golden 


ROTTERDAM.  91 

earrings,  the  cleanliness,  the  flowers  in  the  win- 
dows,  the  quiet  hard-working  crowd, — all  give  to 
Rotterdam  an  appearance  of  health  and  peaceful  con- 
tent which  brings  the  Te  beata  to  our  lips,  not  with  a 
cry  of  enthusiasm,   but  with  a  smile  of  sympathy. 

Re-entering  the  hotel,  I  saw  an  entire  French 
family  in  a  corridor  gazing  in  admiration  at  the  nails 
on  a  door  which  shone  like  so  many  silver  buttons. 

In  the  morning,  as  soon  as  I  arose,  I  went  to  my 
window,  which  was  on  the  second  floor,  and  on  look- 
ing at  the  roofs  of  tho  opposite  houses,  I  confessed 
with  surprise  that  Bismarck  was  excusable  for  believ- 
ing he  saw  phantoms  on  the  roofs  at  Rotterdam.  Out 
of  the  chimney-pots  of  all  the  ancient  houses  rise 
curved  or  straight  tubes,  one  above  the  other,  cross- 
ing and  recrossing  like  open  arms,  or  forks,  or 
immense  horns,  in  such  impossible  positions  that  it 
seems  as  though  they  must  understand  each  other 
and  be  speaking  a  mysterious  language  from  house 
to  house,  and  that  at  night  they  must  move  about 
with  some  purpose. 

1  walked  down  Hoog-Straat.  It  was  Sunday  and 
few  shops  were  open.  The  Dutch  told  me  that  some 
years  ago  even  those  few  would  have  been  closed : 
the  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  which  used  to  be 
very  strict,  is  becoming  slack.  I  saw  the  signs  of 
holiday  chiefly  in  the  peoples  clothes,  in  the  dress 
of  the  men  particularly.  The  men,  especially 
those   of   the   lower  classes  (and  this   I  observed   in 


92  ROTTERDAM. 

other  toAvns  also),  have  a  decided  taste  for  black 
clothes,  which  they  wear  proudly  on  Sundays — black 
cravats,  black  breeches,  and  certain  black  over- 
coats that  reach  almost  to  their  knees.  This 
costume,  together  with  their  leisurely  gait  and 
solemn  faces,  gives  them  the  air  of  village  syn- 
dics going  to  assist  at  an  official   Te  Deum. 

But  what  most  surprised  me  was  to  see  at  that  hour 
almost  every  one  I  met,  gentry  and  peasantry,  men 
and  boys,  with  cigars  in  their  mouths.  This  unfor- 
tunate habit  of  "  dreaming  awake,"  as  Emile  Girardin 
called  it  when  he  made  war  on  smokers,  occupies  such 
a  large  part  of  the  life  of  the  Dutch  people  that  it 
is  necessary  to  say  a  few  words  about  it. 

The  Dutch  probably  smoke  more  than  any  other 
northern  nation.  The  humidity  of  the  climate 
makes  it  almost  a  necessity,  and  the  cheapness  of 
tobacco  puts  it  in  everybody's  power  to  satisfy  this 
desire.  To  show  how  inveterate  is  this  habit,  it  will 
suffice  to  say  that  the  boatmen  of  the  treschkuit  (the 
stage-coach  of  the  canals)  measure  distance  by  smoke. 
From  here  to  such  and  such  a  town  they  say  it  is  so 
many  pipes,  not  so  many  miles.  When  you  enter  a 
house,  the  host,  after  the  usual  greetings,  gives  you  a 
cigar;  when  you  leave  he  gives  you  another,  some- 
times he  fills  your  pocket.  In  the  streets  one  sees  men 
lighting  fresh  cigars  with  the  stumps  they  have  just 
smoked,  with  a  hurried  air,  without  stopping  for  a 
moment,  as  if  it  were  equally  disagreeable  to  them  to 


HOTTER  DAM.  93 

lose  a  moment  of  time  and  a  mouthful  of  smoke.  A 
great  many  men  go  to  bed  with  their  cigars  in  their 
mouths,  light  them  if  they  awake  in  the  night,  and 
relight  them  in  the  morning  before  leaving  their 
beds.  "The  Dutchman  is  a  living  alembic,"  writes 
Diderot;  and  it  does  really  seem  as  though  smoking 
is  to  him  one  of  the  necessary  functions  of  life.  Many 
say  that  much  smoking  clouds  the  brain.  But,  not- 
withstanding, if  there  is  a  people  whose  intelligence  is 
clear  and  precise  in  the  highest  degree,  that  people  is 
the  Dutch.  Moreover,  smoking  is  no  excuse  for  idle- 
ness among  the  Hollanders, — they  do  not  smoke  "  to 
dream  awake."  Every  one  does  his  work  while  puff- 
ing white  clouds  of  smoke  from  his  mouth  as  if  he 
were  the  chimney  of  a  factory,  and,  instead  of  the 
cigar  being  a  distraction,  it  is  a  stimulus  and  a  help 
to  labor.  "  Smoke  is  our  second  breath,"  said  a 
Dutchman  to  me,  and  another  defined  the  cigar  as 
"the  sixth  finger  of  our  hand." 

Apropos  of  tobacco,  I  must  tell  of  the  life 
and  death  of  a  famous  Dutch  smoker,  but  I  am 
lather  afraid  my  Dutch  friends  who  told  me  the  story 
will  shrug  their  shoulders,  for  they  lamented  that 
strangers  who  write  on  Holland  pass  over  important 
things  which  do  honor  to  the  country,  and  mention 
only  trifles  such  as  this.  However,  this  is  such  a 
remarkable  trifle  that  I  cannot  resist  the  temptation 
of  putting  it  down. 

Once  upon    a    time   there    was  a    wealthy   gentle- 


94  ROTTERDAM. 

man  who  lived  in  the  suburbs  of  Rotterdam.  His 
name  was  Van  Klaes,  but  he  was  nicknamed  Papa 
Big  Pipe,  for  he  was  a  fat  old  fellow  and  a  great 
smoker.  He  was  a  man  of  simple  habits  and 
kindly  heart,  who,  as  the  story  runs,  had  made 
a  great  fortune  in  India  bv  honest  trade.  On 
his  return  from  India  he  built  himself  a  beau- 
tiful mansion  near  Rotterdam,  and  in  this  home 
he  collected  and  arranged  in  order  every  im- 
aginable kind  of  pipe.  There  were  pipes  of  every 
country  and  of  every  period,  from  those  used  by  an- 
cient barbarians  to  smoke  hemp,  to  the  splendid  meer- 
schaum and  amber  pipes  ornamented  with  carved 
figures  and  bands  of  gold  like  those  seen  in  the  finest 
stores  of  Paris.  The  museum  was  open  to  visitors, 
to  each  of  whom,  after  he  had  aired  his  knowledge 
on  the  subject  of  pipe-collecting,  Mr  Van  Klaes  gave 
a  pouch  filled  with  tobacco  and  cigars,  and  a  cata- 
logue of  the  museum  in  a  velvet  cover. 

Every  day  Mr  Van  Klaes  smoked  a  hundred  and 
fifty  grammes  of  tobacco,  and  he  died  at  the  ripe  old 
age  of  ninety-eight  years;  consequently,  if  we  assume 
that  he  began  to  smoke  when  he  was  eighteen  years 
old,  he  consumed  in  the  course  of  his  life  four  thou- 
sand three  hundred  and  eighty-three  kilogrammes.  If 
this  quantity  of  tobacco  could  be  laid  down  in  a 
continuous  black  line,  it  would  extend  twenty  French 
leagues.  Rut,  in  spite  of  all  this,  Mr  Van 
Klaes   showed    that    in    death    he  was  a    far  greater 


On  tbc  flDcuse,  near  iRotterfcam. 


ROTTERDAM.  95 

smoker  than  lie  had  been  in  life.  Tradition  has 
preserved  all  the  particulars  of  his  end.  lie  was 
approaching  his  ninety-eighth  birthday  when  it  was 
suddenly  borne  in  upon  him  that  the  end  of  his  life 
was  at  hand,  lie  summoned  his  notary,  who  was 
also  a  notable  smoker,  and,  "Notary,"  said  he  with 
no  unnecessary  words,  "fill  my  pipe  and  yours;  I 
am  going  to  die."  The  notary  filled  and  lighted  the 
pipes,  and  Mr  Van  Klaes  dictated  that  will  which 
has  become  celebrated  all  over  Holland. 

After  he  had  bequeathed  the  greater  part  of  his 
fortune  to  relatives,  friends,  and  charities,  he  added 
the  following  clauses : 

"  I  wish  every  smoker  in  the  kingdom  to  be  invited 
to  my  funeral  in  every  way  possible,  by  letter, 
circular,  and  advertisement.  Every  smoker  who 
takes  advantage  of  the  invitation  shall  receive  as 
a  present  ten  pounds  of  tobacco,  and  two  pipes  on 
which  shall  be  engraved  my  name,  my  crest,  and 
the  date  of  my  death.  The  poor  of  the  neighbor- 
hood who  accompany  my  bier  shall  receive  every 
year  on  the  anniversary  of  my  death  a  large  pack- 
age of  tobacco.  I  make  the  condition  that  all  those 
who  assist  at  my  funeral,  if  they  wish  to  partake 
of  the  benefits  of  my  will,  must  smoke  without 
interruption  during  the  entire  ceremony.  My  body 
shall  be  placed  in  a  coffin  lined  throughout  with  the 
wood  of  my  old  Havana  cigar-boxes.  At  the  foot 
of  the    coffin    shall  be  placed  a   box  of  the  French 


9G  ROTTERDAM. 

tobacco  called  caporal  and  a  package  of  our  old 
Dutch  tobacco.  At  my  side  place  my  favorite  pipe 
and  a  box  of  matches,  .  .  .  for  one  never  knows 
what  may  happen.  When  the  bier  rests  in  the  vault, 
all  the  persons  in  the  funeral  procession  are  requested 
to  cast  upon  it  the  ashes  of  their  pipes  as  they  pass 
it  on  their  departure  from  the  grounds." 

The  last  wishes  of  Mr  Van  Klaes  were  faithfully 
fulfilled;  the  funeral  went  off  splendidly,  veiled 
in  a  thick  cloud  of  smoke.  The  cook  of  the  deceased, 
Gertrude  by  name,  to  whom  in  a  codicil  her  mas- 
ter had  lefc  a  considerable  fortune  on  condition 
that  she  should  overcome  her  aversion  to  tobacco, 
walked  in  the  funeral  procession  with  a  cigarette 
in  her  mouth.  The  poor  blessed  the  memory  of 
the  charitable  gentleman,  and  all  the  country  re- 
sounded with  his  praises  as  it  now  rings  with  his 
fame. 

As  I  walked  along  one  of  the  canals  I  saw  under 
different  conditions  one  of  those  sudden  changes  in 
the  weather  such  as  I  had  witnessed  on  the  previous 
day.  In  a  moment  the  sun  disappeared,  the  infinite 
variety  of  cheerful  colors  was  obscured,  and  a  chill- 
ing wind  began  to  blow.  Then  the  subdued  gayety 
which  existed  a  few  moments  before  gave  place  every- 
where to  a  strange  trepidation.  The  leaves  of  the 
trees  rustled,  the  flags  on  the  ships  fluttered,  the 
boats  moored  to  the  palisades  tossed  to  and  fro;  the 
waters    were  troubled,  a  thousand  articles  suspended 


ROTTERDAM.  97 

from  the  houses  dangled  about, — the  arms  of  the  wind- 
mills spun  rapidly  around;  it  seemed  as  though  a 
shiver  of  winter  passed  through  everything,  and  that 
the  city  was  apprehensive  of  a  mysterious  danger.  In 
a  few  moments  the  sun  shone  out,  and  with  it 
returned  color,  peace,  and  cheerfulness.  This  scene 
made  me  reflect  that  Holland  is  not  really  as  som- 
bre a  country  as  many  believe;  it  is  rather  very 
sombre  one  moment,  and  very  cheerful  the  next, 
according  to  the  weather.  In  everything  it  is  a 
country  of  contrasts.  Beneath  a  most  capricious 
sky  lives  the  least  capricious  people  in  the  world, 
and  yet  this  orderly  and  methodical  nation  possesses 
the  tipsiest,  most  disordered  architecture  that  eye 
c:in   see. 

Before  entering  the  museum  at  Rotterdam,  I  think 
it  will  be  opportune  to  make  some  observations  on 
Dutch  painting,  naturally  not  for  those  "  who  know," 
understand,  but  for  those  who  have  forgotten. 

Dutch  art  possesses  one  quality  that  renders  it  par- 
ticularly attractive  to  us  Italians :  it  is  that  branch 
of  the  world's  art  which  differs  most  from  the  Italian 
school, — it  is  the  antithesis,  or,  to  use  a  phrase  that 
enraged  Leopardi,  "  the  opposite  pole  in  art."  The 
Italian  and  the  Dutch  are  the  two  most  original 
schools  of  painting,  or,  as  some  say,  the  only  two 
schools  that  can  honestly  lay  claim  to  originality. 
The  others  are  only  daughters  or  younger  sisters, 
which  bear  a  certain  resemblance  to  their  elders.     So 


98  ROTTERDAM. 

Holland  even  in  its  art  offers  us  that  which  we  most 
desire   in   travel  and   description — novelty. 

Dutch  art  was  born  with  the  independence  and 
freedom  of  Holland.  So  long  as  the  northern  and 
southern  provinces  of  the  Netherlands  were  united 
under  Spanish  dominion  and  the  Catholic  faith,  they 
had  only  one  school  of  painting.  The  Dutch  artists 
painted  like  the  Belgians  ;  they  studied  in  Belgium, 
Germany,  and  Italy.  Heemskerk  imitated  Michel- 
angelo ;  Bloemaert  copied  Correggio ;  De  Moor  fol- 
lowed Titian;  to  mention  a  few  instances.  They  were 
pedantic  disciples  who  united  with  all  the  affectations 
of  the  Italian  style  a  certain  German  coarseness,  and 
the  outcome  was  a  bastard  style  inferior  to  the  earlier 
schools — childish,  stiff,  and  crude  in  color,  with  no 
sense  of  light  and  shade.  But,  at  any  rate,  it  was 
not  a  slavish  imitation ;  it  was  a  faint  prelude  to 
real   Dutch  art. 

With  the  war  of  independence  came  liberty,  re- 
form, and  art.  The  artistic  and  religious  traditions  fell 
together.  The  nude,  the  nymphs,  the  madonnas,  the 
saints,  allegory,  mythology,  the  ideal, — the  whole 
ancient  edifice  was  in  ruins.  The  new  life  which 
animated  Holland  was  revealed  and  developed  in  a 
new  way.  The  little  country,  which  had  suddenly  be- 
come so  glorious  and  formidable,  felt  that  it  must 
tell  its  greatness.  Its  faculties,  which  had  been 
strengthened  and  stimulated  in  the  grand  enterprise 
of    creating  a  native  land,    a   real  world, — now  that 


ROTTERDAM.  99 

this  enterprise  was  achieved,  expanded,  and  created  an 
imaginary  world.  The  conditions  of  the  people  were 
favorable  to  a  revival  of  art.  They  had  overcome 
the  supreme  perils  which  threatened  them:  security, 
prosperity,  a  splendid  future,  were  theirs:  their 
heroes  had  done  their  part;  the  time  had  come 
for  artists.  After  so  many  sacrifices  and  disasters 
Holland  came  forth  victorious  from  the  strife,  turned 
her  face  upon  her  people,  and  smiled,  and  that 
smile  was  Art. 

We  could  picture  to  ourselves  what  this  art  was 
even  if  no  example  of  it  remained.  A  peaceable, 
industrious,  practical  people,  who,  to  use  the  words 
of  a  great  German  poet,  were  continually  brought 
back  to  dull  realities  by  the  conditions  of  a  vulgar 
bourgeois  life;  who  cultivated  their  reason  at  the 
expense  of  their  imagination,  living  in  -consequence 
on  manifest  ideas  rather  than  beautiful  images  ;  Avho 
fled  from  the  abstract,  whose  thoughts  never  rose 
beyond  nature,  with  which  they  waged  continual  war- 
fare— a  people  that  sawT  only  what  exists,  that  enjoyed 
only  what  it  possessed,  whose  happiness  consisted 
in  wealthy  ease  and  an  honest  indulgence  of  the 
senses,  although  without  violent  passions  or  inordinate 
desires  ; — such  a  people  would  naturally  be  phleg- 
matic in  their  art, — they  would  love  a  style  that 
pleased  but  did  not  arouse  them,  that  spoke  to  the 
senses  rather  than  to  the  imagination — a  school  of 
art    placid,   precise,    full   of   repose,   and    thoroughly 

Vol.  I.— 7 


100  ROTTERDAM. 

material  like  their  life — an  art,  in  a  word,  realistic 
and  self-satisfied,  in  which  they  could  see  them- 
selves reflected  as  they  were  and  as  they  were  con- 
tent to  remain. 

The  first  Dutch  artists  began  by  depicting  that 
which  was  continually  before  their  eves — the  home. 
The  long  winters,  the  stubborn  rains,  the  humidity, 
the  continual  changes  in  the  climate,  compel  the 
Hollander  to  spend  a  great  part  of  the  year  and  of 
the  day  in  the  house.  He  loves  his  little  home,  his 
nutshell,  much  more  than  we  love  our  houses,  because 
it  is  much  more  necessary  to  him,  and  he  lives  in  it 
much  more ;  he  provides  it  with  every  comfort,  ca- 
resses it,  adorns  it;  he  delights  in  looking  at  the  falling 
snow  and  drenching  rain  from  its  tight  windows,  and 
in  being  able  to  say,  "  Let  the  storms  rage — I  am  safe 
and  warm."  In  his  little  nest,  beside  his  good  wife  and 
surrounded  by  his  children,  he  passes  the  long  even- 
ings of  autumn  and  winter,   eating  much,  drinking 

much,  smoking  much,  and  amusing  himself  with  lion- 
et o 

est  mirth  after  the  fatigues  of  the  day.  Dutch  artists 
paint  these  little  houses  and  this  home-life  in  little 
pictures  adapted  in  size  to  the  little  walls  they  must 
adorn;  bedrooms  which  make  one  drowsy  ;  kitchens 
with  tables  ready  spread ;  the  fresh,  kindly  faces  of 
mothers  of  families;  men  basking  in  the  warmth  of 
the  hearth  ;  and,  as  they  are  conscientious  realists  who 
omit  nothing,  they  add  blinking  cats,  gaping  dogs, 
scratching   hens,    brooms,   vegetables,    crockery,    and 


ROTTERDAM.  101 

pi  nek  imI  chickens.  This  life  is  painted  in  every  class 
of  society  and  under  every  circumstance;  evening- 
parties,  dances,  orgies,  games,  holidays,  all  are  repre- 
sented, and  thus  Ter  Borch,  Metsu,  Netscher,  Dou, 
Mieris,  Steen,  Brouwer,  and  Ostade  became  famous. 

From  home-life  they  turned  to  the  country.  The 
hostile  climate  gave  them  a  very  short  time  in  which 
to  admire  nature,  and  for  this  reason  the  Dutch 
artists  admire  it  only  the  more  and  salute  the  spring 
■with  greater  joy.  The  fleeting  smiles  of  the  heavens 
are  strongly  impressed  on  their  imagination.  The 
country  is  not  beautiful,  hut  it  is  doubly  dear  to  them 
because  it  has  been  wrested  from  the  sea  and  from  the 
hands  of  strangers.  They  painted  it  with  affection, 
making  their  landscapes  simple,  ingenuous,  and  full 
of  an  intimacy  with  nature  that  neither  the  Italian 
nor  the  Belgian  landscapes  of  this  time  possess. 
Their  country,  ilat  and  monotonous,  presented  to  their 
appreciative  eyes  a  marvellous  variety.  They  noted 
every  change  in  the  sky,  and  revealed  the  water  in 
its  every  appearance,  its  reflection,  its  grace  and 
freshness,  and  its  power  of  diffusing  light  and  color 
everywhere.  There  are  no  mountains,  so  they  put 
the  downs  in  the  background  of  their  pictures ;  and, 
lacking  forests,  they  saw  and  expressed  the  mysteries 
of  a  forest  in  a  group  of  trees,  and  animated  all  with 
noble  animals  and  sails.  The  subjects  of  their  pic- 
tures are  poor  indeed — a  windmill,  a  canal,  a  gray 
sky — but     how     much     they     suggest !       Some     of 


102  ROTTERDAM. 

them,  not  content  with  their  native  land,  came  to 
Italy  in  search  of  hills,  bright  skies,  and  great  ruins, 
and  became  a  circle  of  choice  artists,  such  as  Both, 
Swanevelt,  Pijnacker,  Breenbergh,  Van  Laer,  and 
Asselin ;  but  the  palm  remains  with  the  true  Dutch 
landscape  painters — with  Wynants,  the  painter  of 
morning;  Van  der  Neer,  the  painter  of  night;  lluys- 
dael,  the  painter  of  melancholy;  Ilobbema,  the 
painter  of  windmills,  cottages,  and  kitchen-gardens; 
and  with  others  who  contented  themselves  with  ex- 
pressing the  charm  of  the  modest  scenes  of  their 
native  land. 

Side  by  side  with  landscape  painting  arose  another 
branch  of  art,  which  was  peculiar  to  Holland — the 
painting  of  animals.  Cattle  are  the  riches  of  the 
country,  and  the  splendid  breed  of  Holland  is  un- 
equalled in  Europe  for  its  beauty  and  fecundity. 
'The  Dutch,  who  owe  so  much  to  their  cattle,  treat 
them,  so  to  speak,  as  a  part  of  the  population;  they 
love  them,  wash  them,  comb  them,  dress  them. 
They  are  to  be  seen  everywhere;  they  are  reflected 
in  the  canals,  and  the  country  is  beautified  with  their 
innumerable  black  and  white  spots  dotting  the  wide 
meadows,  giving  every  place  an  air  of  peace  and 
repose,  and  inspiring  one  with  a  feeling  of  Arcadian 
sweetness  and  patriarchal  serenity.  The  Dutch 
artists  studied  the  differences  and  the  habits  of  these 
animals:  they  divined,  one  may  say,  their  thoughts 
and    feelings,    and    enlivened    the   quiet    beauty   of 


ROTTERDAM.  103 

the  landscapes  with  their  figures.  Rubens,  Sny- 
ders,  Paul  <le  Vos,  and  many  other  Belgian  artists 
had  painted  animals  with  wonderful  ability,  but  they 
are  surpassed  by  the  Dutch  painters,  Van  de  Velde, 
Berchem,  Karel  du  Jardin,  and  Paul  Potter,  the 
prince  of  animal  painters,  whose  famous  "  Bull  "  in 
the  sallcrv  at  the  Hague  deserves  to  be  hung  in  the 
Louvre  opposite  Raphael's  "  Transfiguration." 

The  Dutch  have  become  pre-eminent  in  another 
branch  of  art  also — marine  painting.  The  ocean, 
their  enemy,  their  power,  and  their  glory,  overhang- 
ing their  land,  ever  threatening  and  alarming  them, 
enters  into  their  life  by  a  thousand  channels  and  in 
a  thousand  forms.  That,  turbulent  North  Sea,  full  of 
dark  color,  illuminated  by  sunsets  of  infinite  gloom, 
and  ever  lashing  its  desolate  banks,  naturally  domin- 
ated the  imagination  of  the  Dutch  artists.  They 
passed  long  hours  on  the  shore  contemplating  the 
terrible  beauties  of  the  sea;  they  ventured  from  the 
land  to  study  its  tempests;  they  bought  ships  and 
sailed  with  their  families,  observing  and  painting;  they 
fallowed  their  fleets  to  Avar  and  joined  in  the  naval 
battles.  Thus  a  school  of  marine  artists  arose,  boast- 
ing such  men  as  William  Van  de  Velde  the  father 
and  William  the  son.  Bakhuisen,  Dubbels,  and  Stork. 

Another  school  of  painting  naturally  arose  in  Hol- 
land as  the  expression  of  the  character  of  the  people 
and  of  republican  customs.  A  nation  that  with- 
out   greatness    had   dune  so    manv   great   things,    as 


104  ROTTERDAM. 

Michelet  says,  required  an  heroic  style  of  painting,  if 
it  may  be  so  called,  destined  to  illustrate  its  men  and 
achievements.  But  simply  because  the  nation  was 
■without  greatness,  or,  to  speak  more  accurately,  with- 
out the  outward  form  of  greatness — because  it  was 
modest,  and  inclined  to  consider  all  alike  equal  in 
face  of  the  fatherland,  because  all  had  done  their 
duty,  yet  each  abhorred  that  adulation  and  apotheosis 
which  glorify  in  one  person  the  virtues  and  triumphs 
the  mass, — this  style  of  painting  was  needed,  not  to 
extol  a  few  eminent  men  or  extraordinary  events, 
but  to  represent  all  classes  of  citizens  by  occurrences 
of  the  most  ordinary  and  peaceful  moments  of  bour- 
geois life.  Hence  those  large  pictures  representing 
groups  of  five,  ten,  or  even  thirty  persons,  gunners, 
syndics,  officials,  professors,  magistrates,  men  of 
affairs,  seated  or  standing  round  tables,  feasting  or 
arguing,  all  life-size  and  faithful  portraits,  with 
serious  open  countenances,  from  which  shines  the 
quiet  expression  of  a  tranquil  conscience,  from  which 
one  divines,  rather  than  sees,  the  nobility  of  lives 
devoted  to  their  country,  the  spirit  of  that  laborious 
and  dauntless  epoch,  the  manly  virtues  of  that  rare 
generation.  All  this  is  relieved  by  the  beautiful 
costumes  of  the  Renaissance,  which  so  admirably 
combined  grace  with  dignity. — those  ruff's,  jerkins, 
black  cloaks,  silken  scarfs,  ribbons,  arms,  and  ban- 
ners. Van  der  Heist,  Hals,  Govert,  Flink.  and  Bol 
were  masters  in  this  style  of  art. 


ROTTERDAM.  105 

To  leave  the  consideration  of  the  different  branches 
of  painting,  and  to  inquire  into  the  particular 
methods  which  the  Dutch  artists  adopted  and  the 
means  they  employed  to  accomplish  their  results, 
one  chief  feature  at  once  presents  itself  as  the  dis- 
tinctive trait  of  Dutch  painting — the  light. 

The  light,  because  of  the  peculiar  conditions  under 
which  it  manifests  itself  in  Holland,  has  naturally 
given  rise  to  a  peculiar  style  of  painting.  A  pale 
light,  undulating  with  marvellous  changes,  playing 
through  an  atmosphere  heavy  with  vapor,  a  misty 
veil  which  is  repeatedly  and  abruptly  penetrated,  a 
continual  struggle  between  sunshine  and  shadow, — 
these  were  the  phenomena  that  necessarily  attracted 
the  attention  of  artists.  They  began  by  observing 
and  reproducing  all  this  restlessness  of  the  sky,  this 
struggle  which  animates  the  nature  of  Holland  with 
a  varied  and  fantastic  life,  and  by  the  act  of  repro- 
ducing it  the  struggle  passed  into  their  minds,  and 
then,  instead  of  imitating,  they  created.  Then  they 
themselves  made  the  two  elements  contend;  they 
increased  the  darkness  to  startle  and  disperse- it  with 
every  manner  of  luminous  effects  and  flashes  of  light ; 
sunbeams  stole  through  the  gloom  and  then  gradually 
died  away;  the  reflections  of  twilight  and  the  mellow 
light  of  lamps  were  delicately  blended  into  mysterious 
shadows,  which  were  animated  with  confused  forms 
which  one  seems  to  see  and  yet  cannot  distinguish. 
So  under  their  hands  the  light  presents  a  thousand 


106  ROTTERDAM. 

fancies,  contrasts,  enigmas,  and  effects  of  shine  and 
shade  as  unexpected  as  they  are  curious.  Prominent 
in  this  field,  among  many  others,  were  Gherard  Dou, 
the  painter  of  the  famous  picture  of  the  four  candles, 
and  Rembrandt,  the  great  wonder-working  superhu- 
man enlightener. 

Another  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of 
Dutch  painting  is  naturally  color.  It  is  generally 
recognized  that  in  a  country  where  there  are  no 
distant  mountains,  no  undulating  views,  no  prominent 
features  to  strike  the  eve — in  short,  no  general  forms 
that  lend  themselves  to  design — the  artist  is  strongly 
influenced  by  color.  This  is  especially  true  in  the  ease 
of  Holland,  where  the  uncertain  light  and  the  vague 
shadows  which  continually  veil  the  air  soften  and 
obscure  the  outlines  of  objects  until  the  eye  neglects 
the  form  it  cannot  comprehend,  and  fixes  itself  on 
color  as  the  chief  quality  that  nature  possesses.  But 
there  are  yet  other  reasons  for  this:  a  country  as 
ilat,  monotonous,  and  gray  as  Holland  is  has  need 
of  color,  just  as  a  southern  country  has  need  of 
shadow.  The  Dutch  artists  have  only  followed  the 
dominant  taste  of  the  people,  who  paint  their  houses, 
their  1)  >ats,  their  palisades,  the  fences  of  the  fields,  and 
in  some  places  the  very  trunks  of  the  trees,  in  the 
brightest  colors;  who  dress  themselves  as  of  yore  in 
clothes  of  the  gayest  hues;  who  love  tulips  and  hya- 
cinths to  dist ruction.  Hence  all  the  Dutch  painters 
were  great  colorists,  Kembrandt  being  the  first. 


ROTTERDAM.  107 

Realism,  favored  by  tlie  calm  and  sluggish  na- 
ture of  the  Dutch,  which  enables  their  artists  to 
restrain  their  impetuosity,  and  further  aided  by  the 
Dutch  character,  which  aims  at  exactness  and  refuses 
to  do  things  by  halves,  gave  to  the  paintings  of  the 
Hollanders  another  distinctive  trait — finish.  This 
they  carried  to  the  last  possible  degree  of  perfection. 
Critics  say  truthfully  that  in  Dutch  paintings  one 
may  discover  the  first  quality  of  the  nation — patience. 
Everything  is  portrayed  with  the  minuteness  of  a 
daguerreotype:  the  furniture  with  all  the  graining 
of  the  wood,  the  leaf  with  all  its  veins,  a  thread  in  a 
bit  of  cloth,  the  patch  with  all  the  stitches  showing, 
the  animal  with  every  hair  distinct,  the  face  with  all 
its  wrinkles, — everything  is  finished  with  such  micro- 
scopic precision  that  it  seems  to  be  the  work  of  a 
fairy's  brush,  for  surely  a  painter  would  lose  his  sight 
and  reason  in  such  a  task.  After  all,  this  is  a  defect 
rather  than  a  virtue,  because  painting  ought  to  re- 
produce not  what  exists,  but  rather  what  the  eye  sees, 
and  the  eye  does  not  see  every  detail.  However,  the 
defect  is  brought  to  such  a  degree  of  excellence  that 
it  is  to  be  admired  rather  than  censured,  and  one 
does  not  even  dare  to  wish  that  it  should  not  be  there. 
Tn  this  respect,  Don,  Micris,  Potter.  Van  der  Heist, 
and  indeed  all  the  Dutch  painters  in  greater  or  less 
degree,  were  famous  as  prodigies  of  patience. 

On  the  other  hand,  realism,  which  imparts  to  Dutch 
painting    such    an    original    character   and   such   ad- 


108  ROTTERDAM. 

mirable  qualities,  is,  notwithstanding,  the  root  of  its 
most  serious  defects.  The  Dutch  painters,  solicitous 
to  copy  only  material  truth,  give  to  their  figures  the 
expression  of  merely  physical  sentiments.  Sorrow, 
love,  enthusiasm,  and  the  thousand  subtle  emotions 
that  are  nameless,  or  that  take  different  names  from 
the  different  causes  that  give  them  birth,  are  rarely 
or  never  expressed.  For  them  the  heart  does  not 
beat,  the  eye  does  not  overflow  with  tears,  nor  does 
the  mouth  tremble.  In  their  pictures  a  whole  part 
of  the  life  is  lacking,  and  that  the  most  powerful  and 
noble  part,  the  human  soul.  Nay  more,  by  so  faith- 
fully copying  everything,  the  ugly  especially,  they 
end  in  exaggerating  even  that.  They  convert  defects 
into  deformities,  portraits  into  caricatures;  they 
slander  the  national  type  ;  they  give  every  human 
figure  an  ungraceful  and  ludicrous  appearance.  To 
have  a  setting  for  figures  they  are  obliged  to  select 
trivial  subjects;  hence  the  excessive  number  of  can- 
vases depicting  taverns  and  drunken  men  with  gro- 
tesque, stupefied  faces,  in  sprawling  attitudes  ;  low 
women  and  old  men  who  arc  despicably  ridiculous ; 
scenes  in  which  we  seem  to  hear  the  low  yells  and 
obscene  words.  On  looking  at  these  pictures  one 
would  say  that  Holland  is  inhabited  by  the  most 
deformed  and  ill-mannered  nation  in  the  world. 
iSomc  painters  permit  themselves  oven  greater  license. 
Sieen.  Potter.  Brouwer,  and  the  great  Rembrandt  him- 
self often   pandered  to  a  low  and  depraved  taste,  and 


ROTTERDAM.  109 

Torrent  ins  sent  forth  such  shameless  pictures  that  the 
provinces  of  Holland  collect  and  burn  them.  But, 
overlooking  these  excesses,  there  is  scarcely  anything 
to  be  found  in  a  Dutch  gallery  which  elevates  the 
soul,  which  awakens  in  the  mind  high  and  noble 
sentiments.  One  enjoys,  one  admires,  one  laughs, 
and  sometimes  one  is  silent  before  some  landscapes, 
but  on  leaving  one  feels  that  one  has  not  felt  a  real 
pleasure — that  something  was  lacking.  There  comes 
a  longing  to  look  upon  a  beautiful  face  or  to  read  in- 
spired  poetry,  and  sometimes,  unconsciously,  one 
catches  one's  self  murmuring,  "  0  Raphael !" 

In  conclusion,  we  must  note  two  great  merits  in 
this  school — its  variety  and  its  value  as  an  expression, 
as  a  mirror,  of  the  country.  If  Rembrandt  and  his 
followers  are  excepted,  almost  all  the  other  painters 
are  quite  different  from  each  other.  Perhaps  no 
other  school  presents  such  a  number  of  original 
masters.  The  realism  of  the  Dutch  painters  arose 
from  their  common  love  for  nature,  but  each  of  them 
has  shown  in  his  work  a  different  manifestation  of  a 
love  all  his  own;  each  has  given  the  individual  im- 
pression that  he  lias  received  from  nature.  They  all 
set  out  from  the  same  point — the  worship  of  material 
truth,  but  they  each  arrived  at  a  different  goal. 
Their  realism  impelled  them  to  copy  everything,  and 
the  consequence  is  that  the  Dutch  school  has  succeeded 
in  representing  Holland  much  more  faithfully  than 
any  other  school  has  illustrated  any  other  country.    It 


110  ROTTERDAM. 

has  been  said  that  if  every  other  visible  testimony  to 
the  existence  of  Holland  in  the  seventeenth  century — 
its  great  century — excepting  the  work  of  its  artists 
were  to  disappear,  everything  would  be  found  again 
in  the  pictures — the  towns,  the  country,  the  ports, 
the  tleets,  the  markets,  the  shops,  the  dress,  the  uten- 
sils, the  arms,  the  linen,  the  merchandise,  the  pottery, 
the  food,  the  amusements,  the  habits,  the  religion, 
and  the  superstitions.  The  good  and  the  bad  qual- 
ities of  the  nation  are  all  alike  represented,  and  this, 
which  is  a  merit  in  the  literature  of  a  country,  is  no 
less  a  merit  in  its  art. 

]>ut  there  is  one  great  void  in  Dutch  painting,  for 
which  the  peaceful  and  modest  character  of  the  people 
is  not  a  sufficient  reason.  This  school  of  painting, 
which  is  so  essentially  national,  has,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  some  great  naval  battles,  passed  over  all  of  the 
grand  exploits  of  the  war  of  independence,  among 
which  the  sieges  of  Leyden  and  Haarlem  would  have 
been  sufficient  to  inspire  a  legion  of  artists.  Of  this 
war,  almost  a  centurv  in  duration,  filled  with  stranjrc 
and  terrible  events,  there  is  not  a  single  memorable 
[tainting.  This  school,  so  varied  and  so  conscientious 
in  reproducing  its  country  and  its  life,  has  not  rep- 
resented one  scene  of  that  great  tragedy,  as  William 
the  Silent  prophetically  called  it,  which  aroused  in  the 
Hollanders  such  diverse  emotions  of  fear  and  grief, 
rage.  joy.  and  national  pride. 

The  splendor  of  Holland's  art  failed  with   its  polit- 


Zbc  Steuier,  iRottetttam. 


ROTTERDAM.  Ill 

ical  greatness.  Nearly  all  the  great  painters  were 
born  during  the  first  thirty  years  of  the  seventeenth 
or  during  the  last  years  of  the  sixteenth  century; 
none  of  them  were  living  after  the  first  ten  years  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  and  no  others  appeared  to 
take  their  places.  Holland  had  exhausted  its  pro- 
ductiveness. Already  toward  the  end  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  the  sentiment  of  patriotism  had  com- 
menced  to  weaken,  taste  had  become  depraved,  the 
painters  lost  their  inspiration  with  the  decline  of  the 
moral  energies  of  the  country.  In  the  eighteenth 
century  the  artists,  as  though  surfeited  with  nature, 
returned  to  mythology,  classicism,  and  convention- 
ality; their  imagination  was  weakened,  their  style  was 
impoverished,  and  every  spark  of  their  former  genius 
was  extinguished.  Dutch  Art  showed  the  world  the 
marvellous  flowers  of  Van  Huvsum,  the  last  great 
lover  of  nature,  then  folded  her  weary  hands  and  the 
flowers  fell  on  his  tomb. 

The  present  gallery  at  Rotterdam  contains  but  a 
small  number  of  paintings,  among  which  there  are 
very  few  works  of  the  best  artists  and  none  of  the 
chefs  tTmivre  of  the  Dutch  School.  Three  hundred 
paintings  and  thirteen  hundred  drawings  were  de- 
stroyed by  fire  in  18(34,  and  most  of  the  works  that 
are  now  there  were  bequeathed  to  the  city  of  Rotter- 
dam by  Jacob  Otto  Boy  mans.  Hence  the  gallery  is 
a  place  to  see  examples  of  some  particular  artist, 
rather  than   to  study  Dutch  painting. 


H2  ROTTERDAM. 

In   one   of  the   first  rooms   are   some  sketches   of 
naval   battles,  signed  by  William  van   de  Velde,  who 
is  considered  the  greatest  marine  painter  of  his  time. 
He  was  the  son  of  William   the  elder,  who  was  also  a 
marine  painter.     Both  father  and  son  were  fortunate 
enough  to  live  at  the  time  of  the  great  naval  wars 
between   Holland,  England,   and  France,   and  were 
able   to   see  the  battles  with  their  own  eyes.       The 
States  of   Holland   placed  a  frigate  at   the   disposal 
of  Van  de  Yelde  the  elder;  his  son  accompanied  him. 
Both  made  their  sketches  in  the  midst  of  the  battle- 
smoke,  sometimes  advancing  so  far  among  the  fighting 
ships  that  the  admirals  were  obliged  to  order  them  to 
withdraw.       The   younger  Van   de  Velde  surpassed 
his  father.     lie  painted  small  pictures — for  the  most 
part  a  gray  sky,  a  calm  sea,  and  some  sails — but  so 
naturally  are  they  done  that  when  one  looks  at  them 
one   seems  to  smell   the  salt  air  of  the  sea,  and  mis- 
takes the  frame  for  a  window.     This  Van   de  Velde 
belongs  to  that  group  of  Dutch   painters  who  loved 
the  water  with  a  sort  of  madness,  and  who  painted, 
one  may  say,  on  the  water.      Of  these  was  Bakhuisen, 
a  marine  painter  who  had  a  great  vogue  in  his  day, 
whom  Peter  the  Great  chose  as  his  master  during  his 
visit  to  Amsterdam.     This  Bakhuisen,  it  is  said,  used 
to  risk  himself  in  a  small  boat  in  the  midst  of  a  storm 
af  sea  that  he  might  be  able  to  observe  more  closely 
the  movements  of  the  waves,  and  he  often  placed  his 
own  life  and  the  lives  of  his  boatmen  in  such  danger 


ROTTERDAM.  113 

that  the  men,  caring  more  for  their  skins  than  for 
his  paintings,  sometimes  took  him  back  to  land  against 
his  will.  John  Griffier  did  more,  lie  bought  a  little 
ship  in  London,  furnished  it  like  a  house,  installed 
his  wife  and  children  in  it,  and  sailed  about  on  his 
own  responsibility  in  search  of  subjects.  A  storm 
dashed  his  vessel  to  pieces  against  a  sandbank  and 
destroyed  all  he  possessed;  he  and  his  family  were 
saved  by  a  miracle,  and  settled  in  Rotterdam.  But 
he  soon  grew  weary  of  a  life  on  land,  bought  a  shat- 
tered boat  and  put  to  sea  again;  he  nearly  lost  his 
life  a  second  time  near  Dordrecht,  but  still  continued 
his  voyages. 

The  Rotterdam  gallery  affords  very  few  examples 
of  marine  paintings,  but  landscape  painting  is 
worthily  represented  by  two  pictures  by  Ruysdael, 
the  greatest  of  the  Dutch  painters  of  rural  scenes. 
These  two  paintings  represent  his  favorite  subjects — 
leafy,  solitary  spots,  which,  like  all  his  works, 
inspire  a  subtle  feeling  of  melancholy.  The  great 
power  of  this  artist  is  sentiment.  He  is  eminent 
in  the  Dutch  school  for  a  gentleness  of  soul  and  a 
singular  superiority  of  education.  It  has  been  most 
truly  said  of  him  that  he  used  landscape  as  an  ex- 
pression of  his  suffering,  his  weariness,  his  fancies, 
and  that  he  contemplated  his  country  with  a  bitter 
sadness,  as  if  it  were  a  place  of  torment,  and  that  he 
created  the  Avoods  to  hide  his  gloom  in  their  shade. 
The  soft  licrht  of  Holland  is  the  ima^e   of  his  soul; 


114  ROTTERDAM. 

none  felt  more  exquisitely  than  be  its  melancholy 
sweetness,  none  represented  more  feelingly  than  he, 
with  a  ray  of  languid  light,  the  smile  of  a  suffering 
fellow-creature.  Because  of  the  exceptional  delicacy 
of  his  nature  he  was  not  appreciated  by  his  fellow- 
citizens  until  long  after  bis  death. 

Beside  a  painting  by  Ruysdael  bangs  a  picture  of 
flowers  by  a  female  artist,  Rachel  lluysch,  the  wife 
of  a  famous  portrait-painter,  who  was  born  toward 
the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  died,  brush  in 
hand,  in  the  eightieth  year  of  her  age,  after  she  had 
shown  to  her  husband  and  to  the  world  that  a  sensible 
woman  can  passionately  cultivate  the  fine  arts  and 
yet  find  time  to  rear  and  educate  ten  children. 

And  as  I  have  spoken  of  the  wife  of  a  painter,  I 
simply  mention  that  it  is  possible  to  write  an  enter- 
taining book  on  the  wives  of  Dutch  artists,  both 
because  of  the  variety  of  their  adventures  and  the 
important  part  they  play  in  the  history  of  art.  The 
faces  of  a  number  are  known  already,  because  many 
artists  painted  their  wives'  portraits,  as  well  as  their 
own  and  those  of  their  children,  their  cats,  and  their 
hens.  Biographers  speak  of  most  of  them,  confirming 
or  contradicting  reports  which  have  been  circulated 
in  regard  to  their  conduct.  Some  have  hazarded  the 
opinion  that  the  larger  number  of  them  were  a  serious 
drawback  to  their  husbands.  It  seems  to  me  there  is 
something  to  be  said  on  the  other  side.  As  for  Rem- 
brandt, it  is  known  that  the  happiest  part  of  his  life 


ROTTERDAM.  115 

was  the  time  between  Lis  first  marriage  and  the  death 
of  his  wife,  who  was  the  daughter  of  a  burgomaster  of 
Leeuwarden,  and  to  whom  posterity  owes  a  debt  of 
gratitude.  It  is  also  known  that  Van  der  Heist  at  an 
advanced  age  married  a  beautiful  girl,  for  whom  there 
is  nothing  but  praise,  and  posterity  should  be  grateful 
to  her  for  having  brightened  the  old  age  of  a  great 
artist.  It  is  true  that  we  cannot  speak  of  all  in  the 
same  terms.  Of  the  two  wives  of  Steen,  for  example, 
the  first  was  a  featherhead,  who  allowed  the  tavern 
at  Delft  that  he  had  inherited  from  his  father  to  go 
to  ruin ;  and  the  second,  from  all  accounts,  was  un- 
faithful. Heemskerk's  second  wife  was  so  dishonest 
that  her  husband  was  obliged  to  go  about  excusing 
her  peculations.  De  Hondecoeter's  wife  was  an  eccen- 
tric and  troublesome  woman,  who  forced  her  husband 
to  pass  his  evenings  in  a  tavern  in  order  to  rid  him- 
self of  her  company.  The  wife  of  Berghem  was  so 
intolerably  avaricious  that  if  she  found  him  dozing 
over  his  brushes  she  awoke  him  roughly  to  make  him 
work  and  earn  money,  and  the  poor  man  wras  obliged 
to  resort  to  subterfuges  to  purchase  engravings  when 
he  was  paid  for  his  pictures.  On  the  other  hand, 
one  could  never  end  reciting  the  misdeeds  of  the 
husbands.  The  artist  Grifficr  compelled  his  wife  to 
travel  about  the  world  in  a  boat ;  Veen  begged  his 
wife's  permission  to  spend  four  months  in  Rome,  and 
stayed  there  four  years.  Karel  du  Jardin  married  a 
rich  old  woman  to  pay  his  debts,  and  deserted  her 

Vol.  I.— 8 


11G  ROTTERDAM. 

when  she  had  paid  them.  Molyn,  another  artist,  had 
his  wife  assassinated  that  he  might  marry  a  Genoese. 
I  doubt  whether  poor  Paul  Potter,  as  the  story  runs, 
was  betrayed  by  the  wife  whom  he  blindly  loved ;  and 
who  knows  whether  Huysum,  the  great  flower-painter, 
who  was  consumed  by  jealousy  in  the  midst  of  riches 
and  glory  for  a  wife  who  was  neither  young  nor 
beautiful,  had  real  grounds  for  his  doubts,  or  whether 
he  was  not  induced  by  the  reports  of  his  envious 
rivals  to  believe  what  was  untrue?  In  conclusion, 
I  must  mention  with  due  honor  the  three  wives  of 
Eglon  Van  der  Neer,  who  crowned  him  with  twenty- 
five  children— a  family  which,  however,  did  not  keep 
him  from  painting  a  large  number  of  pictures  in 
every  style,  from  making  several  voyages,  and  from 
cultivating  tulips. 

There  are  several  small  paintings  by  Albert  Cuyp 
in  the  Rotterdam  gallery,  a  landscape,  horses,  fowls, 
and  fruit — that  Albert  Cuyp  who  holds  a  unique  place 
in  Dutch  art,  who  in  tho  course  of  a  prolonged 
life  painted  portraits,  landscapes,  animals,  flowers, 
winter  pieces,  moonlight  scenes,  marine  subjects, 
figures,  and  in  each  style  left  an  imprint  of  original- 
ity. But  nevertheless,  like  most  of  the  Dutch  paint- 
ers of  his  time,  he  was  so  unfortunate  that  until  1750, 
more  than  fifty  years  after  his  death,  his  paintings 
sold  for  a  hundred  francs,  whereas  they  now  would 
bring  a  hundred  thousand  francs — not  in  Holland, 
but  in  England,  where  most  of  bis  works  are  owned. 


ROTTERDAM.  117 

Heemskerk's  "  Christ  at  the  Sepulchre"  would  not 
be  worth  mentioning  if  it  were  not  an  excuse  for 
introducing  the  artist,  who  was  one  of  the  most  curi- 
ous creatures  that  ever  walked  the  face  of  the  earth. 
Van  Veen — such  is  his  real  name — was  born  in  the 
village  of  Ilccmskerk  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  and  flourished  at  the  period  of  Italian  imi- 
tation, lie  was  the  son  of  a  peasant,  and,  although 
he  had  an  inclination  toward  art,  he  was  intended  for 
a  peasant.  He  became  a  painter  by  chance,  like 
many  other  Dutch  artists.  His  father  had  a  furious 
temper,  and  the  son  was  very  much  afraid  of  him. 
One  day  poor  Aran  Veen  dropped  the  milk-jug;  his 
father  Hew  at  him,  but  he  ran  out  of  the  house  and 
spent  the  night  somewhere  else.  The  next  morning 
his  mother  found  him,  and,  thinking  it  would  be  un- 
safe for  him  to  face  the  paternal  anger,  she  gave  him 
a  small  quantity  of  linen,  a  little  money,  and  com- 
mended him  to  the  care  of  God.  The  lad  went  to 
Haarlem,  and,  obtaining  an  entrance  to  the  studio  of 
a  famous  artist,  he  studied,  succeeded,  and  then  went 
to  Rome  to  perfect  himself.  He  did  not  become  a 
great  artist,  for  the  imitation  of  the  Italian  school 
spoiled  him :  his  treatment  of  the  nude  was  stiff 
and  his  style  full  of  mannerisms,  but  he  painted  a 
great  deal  and  was  well  paid,  and  did  not  regret  his 
early  life.  But  herein  consisted  his  peculiarity:  he 
was,  as  his  biographers  assert,  a  man  incredibly,  mor- 
bidly and  ridiculously  timid.      When  he  knew  that 


118  KOTTERDAM. 

the  arquebusiers  were  to  pass  he  climbed  the  roofs 
and  steeples,  and  trembled  with  fear  when  he  saw 
their  arms  in  the  street.  If  any  one  thinks  this  an 
idle  story,  there  is  a  fact  which  serves  to  prove  it 
true :  he  was  in  the  town  of  Haarlem  when  the 
Spaniards  besieged  it,  and  the  magistrates,  who  knew 
his  weakness,  permitted  him  to  flee  from  the  city 
before  they  began  to  fight,  doubtless  foreseeing  that 
otherwise  he  would  have  died  of  fright.  lie  took 
advantage  of  the  permission  and  fled  to  Amsterdam, 
leaving  his  fellow-citizens  in  the  lurch. 

Other  Dutch  painters — for  we  are  speaking  of  the 
men,  not  of  their  pictures — like  Heemskerk,  owed 
their  choice  of  a  profession  to  accident.  Everdingen, 
of  the  first  order  of  landscape-painters,  owed  his 
choice  to  a  tempest  which  wrecked  his  ship  on  the 
shore  of  Norway,  where  he  remained,  was  inspired 
by  the  grand  natural  scenery  and  created  an  original 
style  of  landscape  art.  Cornelisz  Vroom  also  owed 
his  fortune  to  a  shipwreck  :  he  was  on  his  way  to 
Spain  with  some  religious  pictures;  when  the  vessel 
was  wrecked  near  the  coast  of  Portugal,  the  poor 
artist  saved  himself  with  others  on  an  uninhabited 
island,  where  they  remained  two  days  without  food. 
They  considered  themselves  as  good  as  lost,  when 
they  were  unexpectedly  relieved  by  some  monks  from 
a  monastery  on  the  coast,  whither  the  sea  had  borne 
the  hulk  of  t lie  vessel  with  the  pictures,  which  were 
unharmed.     These  the  monks  considered  admirable. 


ROTTERDAM.  119 

Thus  was  Cornclisz  sheltered,  welcomed,  and  stimu- 
lated to  paint,  and  the  profound  emotions  occasioned 
by  the  wreck  gave  his  genius  such  a  new  and  power- 
ful impulse  that  he  became  a  real  artist.  Another, 
Hans  Fredeman,  the  famous  trick  painter  who  painted 
some  columns  on  the  frame  of  a  drawing-room  door  so 
cleverly  that  Charles  V.  turned  round  to  look  as  soon 
as  he  had  entered,  and  thought  that  the  walls  had 
suddenly  closed  behind  him  by  enchantment, — this 
Hans  Fredeman,  who  painted  palisades  that  made 
people  turn  back,  doors  which  people  attempted  to 
open,  owed  his  fortune  to  a  book  on  architecture  by 
Vitruvius  which  he  obtained  by  chance  from  a  car- 
penter. 

There  is  a  good  little  picture  by  Steen  which  rep- 
resents a  doctor  pretending  to  operate  on  a  man  who 
imagines  himself  to  be  sick:  an  old  woman  is  holding 
a  basin,  the  invalid  is  shrieking  desperately,  and  a 
few  curious  neighbors,  convulsed  with  laughter,  look 
on  from  a  window. 

When  one  says  that  this  picture  makes  one  break 
into  an  irresistible  peal  of  laughter,  one  has  said  all 
that  is  necessary.  After  Kembrandt,  Steen  is  the 
most  original  figure-painter  of  the  Dutch  school ;  he 
is  one  of  those  few  artists  whom,  "when  once  known, 
whether  they  are  or  are  not  congenial  to  our  taste, 
we  must  perforce  admire  as  great  painters,  and  even 
if  we  consider  them  worthy  of  only  secondary  honors, 
it  matters   not,   they   remain   indelibly  impressed  on 


120  ROTTERDAM. 

our  minds.  After  one  has  seen  Steen's  pictures  it  is 
impossible  to  see  a  drunkard,  a  buffoon,  a  cripple,  a 
dwarf,  a  deformed  face,  a  ridiculous  smirk,  a  grotesque 
attitude,  without  remembering  one  of  his  figures. 
All  the  degrees  of  stupidity  and  of  drunkenness,  all 
the  grossness  and  mawkishness  of  orgies,  the  frenzy 
of  the  lowest  pleasures,  the  cynicism  of  the  vulgarest 
vice,  the  buffoonery  of  the  wildest  rabble,  all  the 
most  brutal  emotions,  the  basest  aspects  of  tavern 
and  alehouse  life,  have  been  painted  by  him  with  the 
brutality  and  insolence  of  an  unscrupulous  man,  and 
with  such  a  sense  of  the  comic,  such  an  impetuosity, 
such  an  intoxication  of  inspiration,  one  might  say 
that  words  cannot  express  the  effect  produced. 
Writers  have  devoted  many  volumes  to  him,  and 
have  advanced  many  different  opinions  about  him. 
His  warmest  admirers  have  attributed  to  him  a  moral 
purpose — that  of  making  debauchery  hateful  by 
painting  it  as  he  did  in  repulsive  colors,  for  the  same 
reason  that  the  Spartans  showed  drunken  Helots  to 
their  sons.  Others  see  in  his  paintings  only  the 
spontaneous  and  thoughtless  expression  of  the  spirit 
and  taste  of  the  artist,  whom  they  represent  as  a 
vulgar  debauchee.  However  this  may  be,  there  is 
no  doubt  that  in  the  effects  produced  Steen's  painting 
may  be  considered  a  satire  on  vice,  and  in  this  he  is 
superior  to  almost  all  the  Dutch  painters,  who  re- 
stricted themselves  to  an  external  realism.  Hence 
he  was  called  the  Dutch  Hogarth,  the  jovial  philoso- 


ROTTERDAM.  121 

pher,  t lie  keenest  observer  of  the  habits  of  his 
countrymen,  and  one  among  his  admirers  lias  said 
that  if  Sx'cn  had  been  born  at  Rome  instead  of  at 
Ley  don,  and  had  Michelangelo  instead  of  Van  Goyen 
been  his  master,  he  would  have  been  one  of  the 
greatest  painters  in  the  world.  Another  finds  some 
kind  of  analogy  between  him  and  Raphael.  The 
teehnieal  qualities  of  his  paintings  are  much  less 
admired,  his  work  has  not  the  finish  nor  the  strength 
of  the  other  artists,  such  as  Ostade,  Mieris,  and  Dou. 
But,  even  taking  into  consideration  its  satirical  cha- 
racter, one  must  say  that  Stecn  has  often  exceeded 
his  purpose  if  he  really  had  a  purpose.  The  fury 
with  which  he  pursued  the  burlesque  often  got  the 
better  of  his  feeling  for  reality  ;  his  figures,  instead 
of  being  merely  ridiculous,  became  monstrous  and 
hardly  human,  often  resembling  beasts  rather  than 
men,  and  he  has  exaggerated  these  figures  until 
sometimes  he  awakens,  a  feeling  of  nausea  instead  of 
mirth,  and  a  sense  of  indignation  that  nature  should 
be  so  outraged.  The  effect  he  produces  is  generally 
a  laugh, — a  loud,  irresistible  laugh,  which  bursts  from 
one  even  when  alone  and  calls  the  people  away  from 
the  neighboring  pictures.  It  is  impossible  to  carry 
further  than  Steen  did  the  art  of  flattening  noses, 
twisting  mouths,  shortening  necks,  making  wrinkles, 
rendering  faces  stupid,  putting  on  humps,  and  making 
his  puppets  seem  as  if  they  were  roaring  with  laugh- 
ter, vomiting,  reeling,  or  falling.     By  the  leer  of  a 


122  ROTTERDAM. 

half-closed  eye  he  expressed  idiocy  and  sensuality; 
by  a  sneer  or  a  gesture  he  revealed  the  brutality  of  a 
man.  He  makes  one  smell  the  odor  of  a  pipe,  hear 
the  coarse  laughter,  guess  at  the  stupid  or  foul  dis- 
courses— to  understand,  in  a  word,  tavern-life  and  the 
dregs  of  the  people ;  and  I  maintain  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  carry  this  art  to  a  higher  point  than  that 
to  'which  Steen  has  carried  it. 

His  life  has  been  and  still  is  a  vexed  question. 
Volumes  have  been  written  to  prove  that  he  was  a 
drunkard,  and  volumes  to  prove  that  he  was  a  sober 
man;  and,  as  is  always  the  case,  both  sides  exaggerate. 
He  kept  an  alehouse  at  Delft,  but  it  did  not  pay  ;  then 
he  set  up  a  tavern  and  things  went  worse.  It  is  said 
that  he  was  its  most  assiduous  frequenter,  that  he 
would  drink  up  all  the  wine,  and  that  when  the 
cellar  was  empty  he  would  take  down  the  sign, 
close  the  door,  and  begin  to  paint  furiously,  and 
when  he  had  sold  his  pictures  he  would  buy  more 
wine  and  begin  life  again.  It  is  even  said  that  he 
paid  for  everything  with  his  pictures,  and  that  con- 
sequently all  his  paintings  were  to  be  found  in  wine- 
merchants'  houses.  It  is  really  difficult  to  explain 
how  he  could  have  painted  such  a  large  number  of 
admirable  works  if  he  was  always  intoxicated,  but 
it  is  no  loss  difficult  to  understand  why  he  had  a  taste 
for  such  subjects  if  he  led  a  steady,  sober  life.  It  is 
certain  that,  especially  during  the  last  years  of  his 
life,  he   committed   every  sort  of  extravagance.     lie 


ROTTERDAM.  123 

at  first  studied  under  the  famous  landscape  painter 
Van  Goyen,  but  genius  worked  in  him  more  power- 
fully than  study;  he  divined  the  rules  of  his  art,  and 
if  it  sometimes  seems  that  he  has   painted   too  black, 

as  some  of  his  critics  have  said,  it  was  the  fault  of 
an  extra  bottle  of  wine  at  dinner. 

Steen  is  not  the  only  Dutch  painter  who,  whether 
deservedly  or  not,  won  a  reputation  for  drunk- 
enness. At  one  time  nearly  all  the  artists  passed 
the  greater  part  of  their  day  in  the  taverns,  where 
they  became  famously  drunk,  fell  to  fighting,  and 
whence  they  came  out  bruised  and  bleeding.  In  a  poem 
upon  painting  by  Karel  van  Mander,  who  was  the  first 
to  write  the  history  of  the  painters  of  the  Netherlands, 
there  occurs  a  passage  directed  against  drunkenness 
and  the  habit  of  fighting,  part  of  which  runs  as  fol- 
lows :  '"Be  sober  and  live  so  that  the  unhappy 
proverb  '  As  debauched  as  a  painter '  may  become 
kAs  temperate  as  an  artist.'  '  To  mention  a  few 
among  the  most  famous  artists,  Mieris  was  a  notable 
winebibber.  Van  Goyen  a  drunkard,  Franz  Hals,  the 
master  of  Brouwer,  a  winesack,  Brouwer  an  incor- 
rigible tippler ;  William  Cornelis,  and  Ilondecoeter 
Avere  on  the  best  terms  with  the  bottle.  Many  of  the 
humbler  painters  are  said  to  have  died  intoxicated. 
Even  in  death  the  history  of  the  Dutch  painters 
presents  a  thousand  incongruities.  The  great  Rem- 
brandt expired  in  misery  almost  without  the  know- 
ledge of  any  ;  Hobbema  died  in  the  poor  quarter  of 


124  ROTTERDAM. 

Amsterdam  ;  Steen  died  in  poverty ;  Brouwer  died 
at  a  hospital ;  Andrew  Both  and  Henry  Verschuringh 
were  drowned ;  Adrian  Bloemaert  met  his  death  in 
a  duel;  Karel  Fabritius  was  killed  by  the  explosion 
of  a  powder-magazine  ;  Johann  Schotel  died,  brush 
in  hand,  of  a  stroke  of  apoplexy  ;  Potter  died  of 
consumption;  Lucas  of  Leyden  was  poisoned.  So, 
what  with  shameful  deaths,  debauchery,  and  jealousy, 
one  may  say  that  a  great  part  of  the  Dutch  painters 
have  had  an  unhappy  fate. 

In  the  gallery  at  Rotterdam  there  is  a  beautiful 
head  by  Rembrandt  ;  a  scene  of  brigands  by  Wou- 
verman,  a  great  painter  of  horses  and  battles;  a  land- 
scape by  Van  Goyen,  the  painter  of  dead  shores 
and  leaden  skies;  a  marine  painting  by  Bakhuisen, 
the  painter  of  storms;  a  painting  by  Berghem,  the 
painter  of  smiling  landscapes;  one  by  Everdingen, 
the  painter  of  waterfalls  and  forests;  and  other 
paintings  belonging  to  the  Italian  and  Flemish 
schools. 

On  leaving  the  museum  I  met  a  company  of  sol- 
diers, the  first  Dutch  soldiers  I  had  seen.  Their  uni- 
form was  dark  colored,  without  any  showy  ornaments, 
ami  they  were  all  fair  from  first  to  last,  and  wore 
their  hair  long,  and  almost  all  of  them  had  a  peaceful, 
happy  look,  which  seemed  in  strange  contrast  with 
the  arms  they  bore.  Rotterdam,  a  city  of  more  than 
a  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  has  a  garrison  of 
three  hundred  soldiers!     And  it  is  said  that  Rotter- 


ROTTERDAM.  125 

dam  has  the  name  of  being  the  most  turbulent  and 
unruly  city  in  Holland!  In  fact,  some  time  ago 
there  was  a  popular  demonstration  against  the  muni- 
cipality, which  had  no  consequences  but  a  few  broken 
windows.  But  in  a  country  like  this,  which  runs  by 
clockwork,  it  must  have  seemed,  and  did  truly  seem, 
a  great  event ;  the  cavalry  was  sent  from  the  Hague, 
the  country  was  in  commotion.  One  must  not  think, 
however,  that  this  people  is  all  sugar;  the  citizens 
of  Rotterdam  confess  that  "the  holy  rabble,"  as 
Carducci  calls  it,  is  stoutly  licentious,  as  is  the  case 
in  other  towns  of  worse  reputation ;  the  lack  of 
police  is  rather  an  incentive  to  license  than  a  proof, 
as  some  might  think,  of  public  discipline. 

Rotterdam,  as  I  have  already  said,  is  a  city  neither 
artistic  nor  literary;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  one  of  the 
few  Dutch  cities  that  have  not  given  birth  to  some 
great  painter — an  unproductiveness  shared  by  the 
whole  of  Zealand.  Erasmus,  however,  is  not  its  only 
man  of  letters.  In  a  little  park  that  extends  to  the 
right  of  the  town  on  the  bank  of  the  Mouse  there 
is  a  marble  statue  raised  by  the  inhabitants  of  Rot- 
terdam to  honor  the  poet  Tollens,  who  Avas  born  at 
the  end  of  last  century  and  died  a  few  years  ago. 
This  Tollens,  whom  some  dare  to  call  the  Beranger 
of  Holland,  was  (and  in  this  alone  ho  resembles  Be- 
ranger) one  of  the  most  popular  poets  of  the  country 
— one  of  those  poets  of  which  there  were  so  many  in 


126  ROTTERDAM. 

Holland,  simple,  moral,  and  full  of  common  sense, 
Laving,  in  fact,  more  good  sense  than  inspiration  ; 
•who  treated  poetry  as  if  it  were  a  business ;  who 
never  wrote  anything  that  could  displease  their  pru- 
dent relatives  and  judicious  friends  ;  who  sang  of 
their  good  God  and  their  good  king,  and  expressed 
the  tranquil  and  practical  character  of  the  people, 
always  taking  care  to  say  things  that  were  exact 
rather  than  great,  and,  above  all,  cultivating  poetry 
in  old  age,  and  like  prudent  fathers  of  families  not 
stealing  a  moment  from  the  pursuit  of  their  business. 
Like  many  other  Dutch  poets  (who,  however,  had  more 
genius  and  different  natures),  he  had  another  profes- 
sion besides  that  of  an  author.  Yondel,  for  instance, 
was  a  hatmaker ;  Hooft  was  the  governor  of  Muyden ; 
Van  Lennep  was  a  fiscal  lawyer;  Gravenswaert  was 
a  state  counsellor;  Bogaers,  an  advocate;  Beets,  a 
shepherd ;  so  Tollens  also,  besides  being  a  man  of 
letters,  was  an  apothecary  at  Rotterdam,  and  passed 
every  (lav,  even  in  his  old  age,  in  his  drug-store, 
lie  had  a  family  and  loved  his  children  tenderly — so 
at  least  one  would  conclude  from  the  different  pieces 
of  poetry  he  wrote  on  the  appearance  of  their  first, 
second,  and  third  teeth.  He  wrote  ballads  and  odes 
on  familiar  and  patriotic  subjects.  Among  these  is 
the  national  hymn  of  Holland,  a  mediocre  production 
which  the  people  sing  about  the  streets  and  the  boys 
chant  at  school.  There  is  a  little  poem,  perhaps  the 
best  of  his  works,  on  the  expedition  which  the  Dutch 


Statue  ot  Uollens. 


ROTTERDAM.  127 

sent  to  the  Polar  Sea  toward  the  end  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  The  people  learn  his  poetry  by  heart, 
adore  him,  and  prefer  him  as  their  most  faithful  in- 
terpreter and  most  affectionate  friend.  But,  for  all 
this,  Tollens  is  not  considered  in  Holland  as  a  first- 
class  poet,  many  do  not  even  rank  him  in  the  second 
class,  while  not  a  few  disdainfully  refuse  to  give  him 
the  sacred  laurels. 

After  all,  if  Rotterdam  is  not  a  centre  of  literature 
and  art,  she  has  as  compensation  an  extraordinary 
number  of  philanthropic  institutions,  splendid  clubs, 
and  all  the  comforts  and  diversions  of  a  city  of  wealth 
and  refinement. 

The  observations  that  I  have  had  occasion  to  make 
on  the  character  and  life  of  the  inhabitants  will  be  more 
to  the  purpose  at  the  Hague.  I  will  only  mention  that 
in  Rotterdam,  as  in  other  Dutch  cities,  no  one,  in  speak- 
ing of  their  country's  affairs,  showed  the  least  national 
vanity.  The  expressions,  "  Isn't  it  beautiful  ?"  "  What 
do  you  think  of  that?" — which  one  hears  every  mo- 
ment in  other  countries,  are  never  heard  in  Holland, 
even  when  the  inhabitants  are  speaking  of  things 
that  are  universally  admired.  Every  time  that  I  told 
a  citizen  of  Rotterdam  that  I  liked  the  town  he  made 
a  gesture  of  surprise.  In  speaking  of  their  commerce 
and  institutions  they  never  let  a  vain  expression 
escape  them,  nor  even  a  boastful  or  complacent  word. 
They  always  speak  of  what  they  are  going  to  do,  and 
never  of   what  thev  have  done.       One  of  the  first 


128  ROTTERDAM. 

questions  put  to  me  when  I  named  my  country  was, 
"What  about  its  finances?"  As  to  their  own  country, 
I  observed  that  they  know  all  that  it  is  useful  to 
know,  and  very  little  that  it  is  simply  a  pleasure  to 
know.  A  hundred  things,  a  hundred  parts  of  the 
city,  which  I  had  observed  when  I  had  been  twenty- 
four  hours  at  Rotterdam,  many  of  the  citizens  had 
never  seen ;  which  proves  that  they  are  not  in  the 
habit  of  rambling  about  and  looking  at  everything. 

When  I  took  my  leave  my  acquaintances  filled  my 
pockets  with  cigars,  counselled  me  to  eat  good  nour- 
ishing dinners,  and  gave  me  advice  on  the  subject  of 
economical  travelling.  They  parted  from  me  quietly. 
There  was  no  clamorous  "  What  a  pity  you  are 
going  !"  "  Write  soon  !"  "  Come  back  quickly  !" 
"  Don't  forget  us  !"  which  rang  in  my  ears  on  leaving 
Spain.  Here  there  was  nothing  but  a  hearty  shake 
of  the  hand,  a  look,  and  a  simple  good-bye. 

On  the  morning  when  I  left  Rotterdam  I  saw  in 
the  streets  through  which  I  passed  to  get  to  the  Delft 
railway-station  a  novel  spectacle,  purely  Dutch — the 
cleaning  of  the  houses,  which  takes  place  twice  a 
week  in  the  early  morning  hours.  All  the  servants 
in  the  city,  dressed  in  flowered  lilac-colored  wrappers, 
white  caps,  white  aprons,  white  stockings,  and  white 
wooden  shoes,  and  with  their  sleeves  turned  up,  were 
busilv  washing  the  doors,  the  walls,  and  the  windows. 
Some  sat  courageously  on  the  window-sills  while 
they  washed  the  panes  of  the  windows  with  sponges, 


ROTTERDAM.  129 

turning  their  backs  to  the  street  with  half  their  bodies 
outside  ;  others  were  kneeling  on  the  pavement  clean- 
ing the  stones  with  rough  cloths;  others  were  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  street  armed  with  syringes, 
squirts,  and  pumps,  with  long  rubber  tubes,  like 
those  used  for  watering  gardens,  and  were  sending 
against  the  second-floor  windows  streams  of  water 
which  were  pouring  down  again  into  the  street; 
others  were  mopping  the  windows  with  sponges  and 
rags  tied  to  the  tops  of  long  bamboo  canes;  others 
weie  burnishing  the  door-knobs,  rings,  and  door- 
plates  ;  sume  were  cleaning  the  staircases,  some  the 
furniture,  which  they  had  carried  out  of  the  houses. 
The  pavements  were  blocked  with  buckets  and  pitch- 
ers, with  jugs,  watering-pots,  and  benches  ;  water  ran 
down  the  walls  and  down  the  street ;  jets  of  water 
were  gushing  out  everywhere.  It  is  a  curious  thing 
that  while  labor  in  Holland  is  so  slow  and  easy  in  all 
its  forms,  this  work  presented  an  appearance  alto- 
gether different.  All  those  girls  with  glowing  faces 
were  bustling  indoors  and  hurrying  out  again,  rushing 
up  stairs  and  down,  tucking  up  their  sleeves  hastily, 
assuming  bold  acrobatic  attitudes  and  undergoing 
dangerous  contortions.  They  took  no  notice  of 
those  who  passed  by  except  when  with  jealous  eyes 
it  was  necessary  to  keep  the  profane  race  away  from 
the  pavement  and  walls.  In  short,  it  was  a  furious 
rivalry  of  cleanliness,  a  sort  of  general  ablution  of 
the  city,  which  had   about   it  something  childish  and 


130  ROTTERDAM. 

festive,  and  which  made  one  fancy  that  it  was  some 
rite  of  an  eccentric  religion  which  ordered  its  follow- 
ers to  cleanse  the  town  from  a  mysterious  infection 
sent  by  malicious  spirits. 


DELFT 


DELFT. 


On  my  way  from  Rotterdam  to  Delft  I  saw  for  the 
first  time  the  plains  of  Holland. 

The  country  is  perfectly  fiat — a  succession  of 
green  and  flower-decked  meadows,  broken  by  long 
rows  of  willows  and  clumps  of  alders  and  poplars. 
Here  and  there  appear  the  tops  of  steeples,  the  turn- 
ing arms  of  windmills,  straggling  herds  of  large 
black  and  white  cattle,  and  an  occasional  shepherd  ; 
then,  for  miles,  only  solitude.  There  is  nothing  to 
attract  the  eye,  there  is  neither  hill  nor  valley. 
From  time  to  time  the  sail  of  a  ship  is  seen  in  the 
distance,  but  as  the  vessel  is  moving  on  an  invisible 
canal,  it  seems  to  be  gliding  over  the  grass  of  the 
meadows  as  it  is  hidden  for  a  moment  behind  the 
trees  and  then  reappears.  The  wan  light  lends  a 
gentle,  melancholy  influence  to  the  landscape,  while 
a  mist  almost  imperceptible  makes  all  things  appear 
distant.  There  is  a  sense  of  silence  to  the  eye,  a 
peace  of  outline  and  color,  a  repose  in  everything,  so 
that  the  vision  grows  dim  and  the  imagination  sleeps. 

Not  far  from  Rotterdam  the  town  of  Schiedam 
comes  into  view,  surrounded  by  very  high  windmills, 

133 


134  DELFT. 

■which  give  it  the  appearance  of  a  fortress  crowned 
with  turrets ;  and  far  away  can  be  seen  the  towers  of 
the  village  of  Vlaardingen,  one  of  the  principal  sta- 
tions of  the  herring-fisheries. 

Between  Schiedam  and  Delft  I  observed  the  wind- 
mills with  o-reat  attention.  Dutch  windmills  do  not 
at  all  resemble  the  decrepit  mills  I  had  seen  in  the 
previous  year  at  La  Mancha,  which  seemed  to  be  ex- 
tending their  thin  arms  to  implore  the  aid  of  heaven 
and  earth.  The  Dutch  mills  are  large,  strong,  and 
vigorous,  and  Don  Quixote  would  certainly  have 
hesitated  before  running  atilt  at  them.  Some  are 
built  of  stone  or  bricks,  and  are  round  or  octagonal 
like  mediaeval  towers ;  others  are  of  wood,  and  look 
like  boxes  stuck  on  the  summits  of  pyramids.  Most 
of  them  are  thatched.  About  midway  between  the 
roof  and  the  ground  they  are  encircled  by  a  wooden 
platform.  Their  windows  are  hung  with  white  cur- 
tains, their  doors  are  painted  green,  and  on  each  door 
is  written  the  use  which  it  serves.  Besides  drawing 
water,  the  windmills  do  a  little  of  everything:  they 
grind  grain,  pound  rags,  crumble  lime,  crush  stones, 
saw  wood,  press  olives,  and  pulverize  tobacco.  A 
windmill  is  as  valuable  as  a  farm,  and  it  takes  a 
considerable  fortune  to  build  one  and  provide  it  with 
colza,  grain,  flour,  and  oil  to  keep  it  working,  and  to 
sell  its  products.  Consequently,  in  many  places  the 
riches  of  a  proprietor  are  measured  by  the  number 
of  mills  he  owns ;  an  inheritance  is  counted  by  mills, 


"Hear  tbe  arsenal,  E>eltt. 


DELFT.  135 

and  they  say  of  a  girl  that  she  lias  so  many  wind- 
mills as  dowry,  or,  even  better,  so  many  steam-mills; 
and  fortune-hunters,  who  are  to  be  found  everywhere, 
sue  for  the  maiden's  hand  to  marry  the  mill.  These 
countless  winged  towers  scattered  through  the  country 
give  the  landscape. a  singular  appearance;  they  ani- 
mate the  solitude.  At  night  in  the  midst  of  the 
trees  they  have  a  fantastic  appearance,  and  look 
like  fabulous  birds  gazing  at  the  sky.  By  day 
in  the  distance  they  look  like  enormous  pieces  of 
fireworks;  they  turn,  stop,  curb  and  slacken  their 
speed,  break  the  silence  by  their  dull  and  monotonous 
tick-tack,  and  when  by  chance  they  catch  fire — which 
not  infrequently  happens,  especially  in  the  case  of 
flour-mills — they  form  a  wheel  of  flame,  a  furious 
rain  of  burning  meal,  a  whirlwind  of  smoke,  a  tumult, 
a  dreadful  magnificent  brilliance  that  gives  one  the 
idea  of  an  infernal  vision. 

In  the  railway-carriage,  although  it  was  full  of 
people,  I  had  no  opportunity  of  speaking  or  of  hear- 
ing a  word  spoken.  The  passengers  were  all  middle- 
aged  men  with  serious  faces,  who  looked  at  each  other 
in  silence,  puffing  out  great  clouds  of  smoke  at  reg- 
ular intervals  as  if  they  were  measuring  time  by  their 
cigars.  When  we  arrived  at  Delft  I  greeted  them  as 
I  passed  out,  and  some  of  them  responded  by  a  slight 
movement  of  the  lips. 

"Delft,"  says  Lodovico  Guicciardini,  "is  named 
after  a  ditch,   or   rather   the   canal   of   water   which 


136  DELFT. 

leads  from  the  Meuse,  since  in  the  vulgar  tongue  a 
ditch  is  generally  called  delft.  It  is  distant  two 
leagues  from  Rotterdam,  and  is  a  town  truly  great  and 
most  beautiful  in  every  part,  having  goodly  and  noble 
edifices  and  wide  streets,  which  are  lively  withal.  It 
was  founded  by  Godfrey,  surnamed  the  Hunchback, 
duke  of  Lorraine,  he  who  for  the  space  of  four  years 
occupied  the  country  of  Holland." 

Delft  is  the  city  of  disaster.  Toward  the  middle 
of  the  sixteenth  century  it  was  almost  entirely  de- 
stroyed by  fire ;  in  1654  the  explosion  of  a  powder- 
magazine  shattered  more  than  two  hundred  houses ; 
and  in  1742  another  catastrophe  of  the  same  kind 
occurred.  Besides  these  calamities,  William  the  Si- 
lent was  assassinated  there  in  the  year  1584.  More- 
over, there  followed  the  decline  and  almost  the 
extinction  of  that  industry  which  once  was  the 
glory  and  riches  of  the  city,  the  manufacture  of 
Delft  ware.  In  this  art  at  first  the  Dutch  artisans 
imitated  the  shapes  and  designs  of  Chinese  and 
Japanese  china,  and  finally  succeeded  in  doing  ad- 
mirable work  by  uniting  the  Dutch  and  Asiatic 
styles.  Dutch  pottery  became  famous  throughout 
Northern  Europe,  and  it  is  now-a-days  as  much  sought 
after  by  lovers  of  this  art  as  the  best  Italian  products. 

At  present  Delft  is  not  an  industrial  or  commercial 
city,  and  its  twenty-two  thousand  inhabitants  live  in 
profound  peace.  But  it  is  one  of  the  prettiest  and 
most   characteristic    towns   of   Holland.      The    wide 


DELFT.  137 

streets  are  traversed  by  canals  shaded  by  double  rows 
of  trees.  On  either  side  are  red,  purple,  and  pink 
cottages  with  white  pointing, which  seem  content  in 
their  cleanliness.  At  every  crossway  two  or  three 
corresponding  bridges  of  stone  or  of  wood,  with 
white  railings,  meet  each  other;  the  only  thing 
to  be  seen  is  some  barge  lying  motionless  and  ap- 
parently enjoying  the  delight  of  idleness ;  there  are 
few  people  stirring,  the  doors  are  closed,  and  all  is 
still. 

I  took  my  way  toward  the  new  church,  looking 
around  to  see  if  I  could  discover  any  of  the  famous 
storks'  nests,  but  there  were  none  visible.  The  tra- 
dition of  the  storks  of  Delft  is  still  alive,  and  no  trav- 
eller writes  about  this  city  without  mentioning  it. 
Guicciardini  calls  it  "  a  memorable  fact  of  such  a 
nature  that  peradventure  there  is  no  record  of  a  like 
event  in  ancient  or  modern  times."  The  circum- 
stance took  place  during  the  great  fire  which  de- 
stroyed nearly  the  whole  city.  There  were  in  Delft 
a  countless  number  of  storks'  nests.  It  must  be  re- 
membered that  the  stork  is  the  favorite  bird  of  Hol- 
land, the  bird  of  good  augury,  like  the  swallow. 
Storks  are  much  in  demand,  as  they  make  war  on 
toads  and  rats,  and  the  peasants  plant  perches  sur- 
mounted by  large  wooden  disks  to  attract  them  to 
build  their  nests  there.  In  some  towns  they  are  to 
be  seen  walking  through  the  streets.  Well,  at  Delft 
there  were  innumerable  nests.     When  the  fire  began, 


138  DELFT. 

on  the  3d  of  May,  the  young  storks  were  well  grown, 
but  they  could  not  yet  fly.  When  they  saw  the  fire 
approaching,  the  parent  storks  tried  to  carry  their 
little  ones  into  a  place  of  safety,  but  they  were  too 
heavy,  and  after  every  sort  of  desperate  effort  the 
poor  birds,  worn  and  terrified,  had  to  abandon  the 
attempt.  They  might  yet  have  saved  themselves  by 
leaving  the  young  to  their  fate,  as  human  beings 
generally  do  under  similar  circumstances.  But,  in- 
stead, they  remained  on  their  nests,  pressing  their 
little  ones  round  them,  and  shielding  them  with  their 
Avings,  as  though  to  delay  their  destruction  for  at 
least  a  moment.  Thus  they  awaited  their  death,  and 
were  found  lifeless  in  this  attitude  of  love  and  devo- 
tion. Who  knows  whether  during  the  horrible  terror 
and  panic  of  the  fire  the  example  of  that  sacrifice, 
the  voluntary  martyrdom  of  those  poor  mothers,  may 
not  have  given  courage  to  some  weaker  soul  about  to 
abandon  those  who  had  need  of  him  ? 

In  the  great  square,  where  stands  the  new  church, 
I  again  saw  some  shops  like  those  I  had  seen  in  Rot- 
terdam, in  which  all  the  articles  which  can  be  strung 
together  are  hung  up  either  outside  the  door  or  in  the 
room,  so  forming  wreaths,  festoons,  and  curtains — of 
shoes,  for  example,  or  of  earthen  pots,  watering-cans, 
baskets,  and  buckets — which  dangle  from  the  ceiling 
to  the  ground,  and  sometimes  almost  hide  the  floor. 
The  shop  signs  are  like  those  at  Rotterdam — a  bottle 
of  beer  hanging  from  a  nail,  a  paint-brush,  a  box,  a 


DELFT.  139 

broom,  and  the  customary  huge  heads  with  wide-open 
mouths. 

The  new  church,  founded  toward  the  end  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  is  to  Holland  what  Westminster 
Abbey  is  to  England.  It  is  a  large  edifice,  sombre 
without  and  bare  within — a  prison  rather  than  a 
house  of  God.  The  tombs  are  at  the  end,  behind  the 
enclosure  of  the  benches. 

I  had  scarcely  entered  before  I  saw  the  splendid 
mausoleum  of  William  the  Silent,  but  the  sexton 
stopped  me  before  the  very  simple  tomb  of  Hugh 
Grotius,  the  prodigium  Europce,  as  the  epitaph  calls 
him,  the  great  jurisconsult  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury— that  Grotius  who  wrote  Latin  verses  at  the  age 
of  nine,  who  composed  Greek  odes  at  eleven,  who  at 
fourteen  indited  philosophical  theses,  who  three  years 
later  accompanied  the  illustrious  Barneveldt  in  his 
embassy  to  Paris,  where  Henry  IV.  presented  him  to 
his  court,  saying,  "Behold  the  miracle  of  Holland!" 
that  Grotius  who  at  eighteen  years  of  age  was  illus- 
trious as  a  poet,  as  a  theologian,  as  a  commentator, 
as  an  astronomer,  who  had  written  a  poem  on  the  town 
of  Ostend  which  Casaubon  translated  into  Greek 
measures  and  Malesherbes  into  French  verse ;  that 
Grotius  who  when  hardly  twenty-four  years  old  occu- 
pied the  post  of  advocate-general  of  Holland  and 
Zealand,  and  composed  a  celebrated  treatise  on  the 
Freedom  of  the  Seas  ;  who  at  thirty  years  of  age  was 
an  honorarv   councillor  of  Rotterdam.       Afterward, 


140  DELFT. 

when,  as  a  partisan  of  Barneveldt,  he  was  persecuted, 
condemned  to  perpetual  imprisonment,  and  shut  up 
in  the  castle  of  Lowestein,  he  wrote  his  treatise  on 
the  Rights  of  Peace  and  War,  which  for  a  long  time 
Avas  the  code  of  all  the  publicists  of  Europe,  lie 
was  rescued  in  a  marvellous  way  by  his  wife,  who 
managed  to  be  carried  into  the  prison  inside  a  chest 
supposed  to  be  full  of  books,  and  sent  back  the  chest 
with  her  husband  inside,  while  she  remained  in  prison 
in  his  place.  lie  was  then  sheltered  by  Louis  XIII., 
was  appointed  ambassador  to  France  by  Christina  of 
Sweden,  and  finally  returned  in  triumph  to  his  native 
land,  and  died  at  Rostock  crowned  with  glory  and  a 
venerable  old  age. 

The  mausoleum  of  William  the  Silent  is  in  the 
middle  of  the  church.  It  is  a  little  temple  of  black 
and  white  marble,  heavy  with  ornament  and  supported 
by  slender  columns,  in  the  midst  of  which  rise  four 
statues  representing  Liberty,  Prudence,  Justice,  and 
Religion.  Above  the  sarcophagus  is  a  recumbent 
statue  of  the  prince  in  white  marble,  and  at  his  feet 
the  effigy  of  the  little  dog  that  saved  his  life  at 
Mechlin  by  barking  one  night,  when  he  was  sleeping 
under  a  tent,  just  as  two  Spaniards  were  advancing 
stealthily  to  kill  him.  At  the  foot  of  this  statue 
vises  a  beautiful  bronze  figure,  a  Victory,  with  out- 
spread wings,  resting  lightly  on  her  left  foot.  At 
the  opposite  side  of  the  little  temple  is  another  bronze 
statue  representing  William  seated.      lie  is  clad   in 


flDonument  to  Homtral  Dan  Uromp, 
Belft. 


DELFT.  141 

armor,  with  his  head  uncovered  and  his  helmet  at 
his  feet.  An  inscription  in  Latin  tells  that  this 
monument  was  consecrated  by  the  States  of  Holland 
"  to  the  eternal  memory  of  that  William  of  Nassau 
whom  Philip  II.,  the  terror  of  Europe,  feared,  yet 
whom  he  could  neither  subdue  nor  overthrow,  but 
whom  he  killed  by  execrable  fraud."  William's 
children  are  laid  by  his  side,  and  all  the  princes  of 
his  dynasty  are  buried  in  the  crypt  under  his  tomb. 

Before  this  monument  even  the  most  frivolous  and 
careless  visitor  remains  silent  and  thoughtful. 

It  is  well  to  recall  the  tremendous  struggle  of  which 
the  hero  lies  in  that  tomb. 

On  one  side  was  Philip  II.,  on  the  other  William 
of  Orange.  Philip  II.,  shut  up  in  the  dull  solitude 
of  the  Escurial,  lived  in  the  midst  of  an  empire  which 
included  Spain,  North  and  South  Italy,  Belgium, 
and  Holland,  and,  in  Africa,  Oran,  Tunis,  the  archi- 
pelagoes of  the  Cape  Verde  and  Canary  Islands  ;  in 
Asia  the  Philippine  Islands ;  and  the  Antilles, 
Mexico,  and  Peru  in  America.  He  was  the  husband 
of  the  queen  of  England,  the  nephew  of  the  emperor 
of  Germany,  who  obeyed  him  as  if  he  were  a  vassal ; 
he  was  the  lord,  one  may  say,  of  all  Europe,  for  the 
neighboring  states  were  all  weakened  by  political  and 
religious  disorders  ;  he  had  at  his  command  the  best 
disciplined  soldiers  in  Europe,  the  greatest  generals 
of  the  age,  American  gold.  Flemish  industries,  Italian 
science,  an  army   of  spies  scattered   through  all  the 


142  DELFT. 

courts — men  chosen  from  all  countries  fanatically 
devoted  to  him,  conscious  or  unconscious  tools  of  his 
will.  He  was  the  most  sagacious,  most  mysterious 
prince  of  his  age ;  he  had  everything  that  enchains, 
corrupts,  alarms,  and  attracts  the  world — arms, 
riches,  glory,  genius,  religion.  While  every  one  else 
was  bowing  low  before  this  formidable  man,  William 
of  Orange  stood  erect. 

This  man,  without  a  kingdom  and  without  an  army, 
was  nevertheless  more  powerful  than  the  king.  Like 
him,  he  had  been  a  disciple  of  Charles  V.,  and  had 
learned  the  art  of  elevating  thrones  and  hurling  them 
down  ;  like  him,  he  was  cunning  and  inscrutable,  and 
yet  he  divined  the  future  with  keener  intellectual  vis- 
ion than  Philip.  Like  his  enemy,  he  had  the  power 
of  reading  men's  souls,  but  he  also  had  the  ability  to 
win  their  hearts.  He  had  a  good  cause  to  uphold, 
but  he  was  acquainted  with  all  the  artifices  that  are 
used  to  maintain  bad  causes.  Philip  II. ,  who  spied 
into  every  one's  affairs,  was  spied  on  in  his  turn  and 
had  his  purposes  divined  by  William.  The  designs 
of  the  great  king  were  discovered  and  thwarted  before 
they  were  put  into  execution  ;  mysterious  hands  ran- 
sacked his  drawers  and  pockets  and  investigated  his 
secret  papers.  William  in  Holland  read  the  mind  of 
Philip  in  the  Escurial;  he  anticipated,  hindered,  and 
embroiled  all  his  plots;  he  dug  the  ground  from  be- 
neath his  feet,  provoked  him,  and  then  escaped,  only 
to   return   before  his  eyes  like  a  phantom   which  he 


DELFT.  143 

saw  and  could  not  seize,  which  lie  seized  and  could 
not  destroy.  At  last  William  died,  but  even  when 
dead  the  victory  was  his,  and  the  enemy  who  sur- 
vived was  defeated.  Holland  remained  for  a  short 
time  without  a  head,  but  the  Spanish  monarchy  had 
received  such  a  blow  that  it  was  not  able  to  rise 
again. 

In  this  wonderful  struggle  the  figure  of  the  Great 
King  gradually  dwindles  until  it  entirely  disappears, 
while  that  of  William  of  Orange  becomes  greater 
and  greater  by  slow  degrees  until  it  grows  to  be 
the  most  glorious  figure  of  his  age.  From  the  day 
when,  as  a  hostage  to  the  king  of  France,  he  discov- 
ered Philip's  design  of  establishing  the  Inquisition 
in  the  Netherlands  he  devoted  himself  to  defend  the 
liberty  of  his  country,  and  throughout  his  life  he 
never  wavered  for  a  moment  on  the  road  he  had 
entered.  The  advantages  of  his  noble  birth,  a  recral 
fortune,  peace,  and  the  splendid  life  which  by  habit 
and  nature  were  dear  to  him,  all  these  ho  sacrificed  to 
the  cause  ;  he  was  reduced  to  poverty  and  exiled,  yet 
in  both  poverty  and  exile  he  constantly  refused  the 
offers  of  pardon  and  of  favor  that  were  made  from 
many  sides  and  in  many  ways  by  the  enemy  who 
hated  and  feared  him.  Surrounded  by  assassins, 
made  the  target  of  the  most  atrocious  calumnies, 
accused  of  cowardice  before  the  enemy,  and  charged 
with  the  assassination  of  a  wife  whom  he  adored, 
sometimes  regarded  with  distrust,  slandered,  and  at- 


144  DELFT. 

tacked  by  the  very  people  be  was  defending, — he 
bore  it  all  patiently  and  in  silence.  He  did  not 
swerve  from  the  straight  course  to  the  goal,  facing 
infinite  perils  with  quiet  courage.  He  did  not  bend 
before  his  people  nor  did  he  flatter  them;  he  did  not 
permit  himself  to  be  led  away  by  the  passions  of  his 
country  ;  it  was  he  who  always  guided  ;  he  was  always 
at  the  head,  always  the  first.  All  gathered  around 
him ;  he  was  the  mind,  the  conscience,  and  the 
strength  of  the  revolution,  the  hearth  that  burned 
and  kept  the  warmth  of  life  in  his  fatherland.  Great 
by  reason  alike  of  his  audacity  and  prudence,  he 
continued  upright  in  a  time  full  of  perjury  and 
treachery  ;  he  remained  gentle  in  the  midst  of  violent 
men ;  his  hands  were  spotless  when  all  the  courts  of 
Europe  were  stained  with  blood.  With  an  army  col- 
lected at  random,  with  feeble  or  uncertain  allies, 
checked  by  internal  discords  between  Lutherans  and 
Calvinists,  nobles  and  commoners,  magistrates  and 
the  people,  with  no  great  general  to  aid  him,  he  was 
obliged  to  combat  the  municipal  spirit  of  the  prov- 
inces, which  would  none  of  his  authority  and  escaped 
from  his  control;  yet  he  triumphed  in  a  conflict  which 
seemed  beyond  human  strength.  lie  wore  out  the 
Duke  of  Alva,  Requesens,  Don  John  of  Austria,  and 
Alexander  Farnese.  He  overthrew  the  conspiracies 
of  those  foreign  princes  who  wished  to  help  bis 
country  in  order  to  subdue  it.  lie  gained  friends 
and   obtained  aid  from  every  part  of  Europe,  and, 


DELFT.  115 

after  achieving  one  of  the  noblest  revolutions  in  his- 
tory, he  founded  a  free  state  in  spite  of  an  empire 
which  was  the  terror  of  the  universe. 

This  man,  who  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  was  so 
terrible  and  so  great,  was  an  affectionate  husband 
and  father,  a  pleasant  friend  and  companion,  who 
loved  merry  social  gatherings  and  banquets,  and  was 
an  elegant  and  polite  host.  lie  was  a  man  of  learn- 
ing, and  spoke,  besides  his  native  language,  French, 
German,  Spanish,  Latin,  and  Italian,  and  conversed  in 
a  scholarly  manner  on  all  subjects.  Although  called 
the  Silent  (rather  because  he  kept  to  himself  the  secret 
discovered  at  the  French  court  than  from  a  habit  of 
silence),  he  Mas  one  of  the  most  eloquent  men  of  his 
time.  His  manners  were  simple  and  his  dress  plain  ; 
he  loved  his  people  and  was  beloved  by  them.  lie 
walked  about  the  streets  of  the  cities  bareheaded  and 
alone,  and  chatted  with  workmen  and  fishermen,  who 
offered  him  drink  out  of  their  glasses;  he  listened  to 
their  discourses,  settled  their  quarrels,  entered  their 
homes  to  restore  domestic  concord.  Every  one  called 
him  "  Father  William,"  and,  in  fact,  he  was  the  father 
rather  than  a  son  of  his  country.  The  feeling:  of 
admiration  and  gratitude  which  still  lives  for  him  in 
the  hearts  of  the  Hollanders  has  all  the  intimacy  and 
tenderness  of  filial  affection;  his  reverend  name  is  still 
in  every  mouth ;  his  greatness,  stripped  of  every 
ornament  and  veil,  remains  entire,  spotless,  and 
steadfast  like  his  work. 


146  DELFT. 

After  seeing  the  tomb  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  I 
went  to  look  upon  the  place  where  he  was  assassinated. 

In  1580,  Philip  II.  published  an  edict  in  which  he 
promised  a  reward  of  twenty-five  thousand  golden 
pieces  and  a  title  of  nobility  to  the  man  who  would 
assassinate  the  Prince  of  Orange.  This  infamous 
edict,  which  stimulated  covetousness  and  fanaticism, 
caused  crowds  of  assassins  to  gather  from  every  side, 
who  surrounded  William  under  false  names  and  with 
concealed  weapons,  awaiting  their  opportunity.  A 
young  man  from  Biscay,  Jaureguy  by  name,  a  fervent 
Catholic,  who  had  been  promised  the  glory  of  martyr- 
dom by  a  Dominican  friar,  made  the  first  attempt. 
He  prepared  himself  by  prayer  and  fasting,  went  to 
Mass,  took  the  communion,  covered  himself  with 
sacred  relics,  entered  the  palace,  and,  drawing  near 
to  the  prince  in  the  attitude  of  one  presenting  a  pe- 
tition, fired  a  pistol  at  his  head.  The  ball  passed 
through  the  jaw,  but  the  wound  was  not  mortal. 
The  Prince  of  Orange  recovered.  The  assassin  was 
slain  in  the  act  by  sword  and  halberd  thrusts,  then 
quartered  on  the  public  square,  and  the  parts  were 
hung  up  on  one  of  the  gates  of  Antwerp,  where  they 
remained  until  the  Duke  of  Parma  took  possession 
of  the  town,  when  the  Jesuits  collected  them  and 
presented  them  as  relics  to  the  faithful. 

Shortly  after  this  another  plot  against  the  life  of 
the  Prince  was  discovered.  A  French  nobleman,  an 
Italian,   and  a  Walloon,  who  had  followed   him  for 


DELFT.  147 

some  time  with  the  intention  of  murdering  him,  were 
suspected  and  arrested.  One  of  them  killed  himself 
in  prison  with  a  knife,  another  was  strangled  in 
Fiance,  and  the  third  escaped,  after  he  had  confessed 
that  the  movements  of  all  three  had  heen  directed 
by  the  Duke  of  Parma. 

Meanwhile  Philip's  agents  were  overrunning  the 
country  instigating  rogues  to  perpetrate  this  deed 
with  promises  of  treasures  in  reward,  while  priests 
and  monks  were  instigating  fanatics  to  the  same  end 
by  the  assurance  of  help  and  reward  froin  Heaven. 
Other  assassins  made  the  attempt.  A  Spaniard  was 
discovered,  arrested,  and  quartered  at  Antwerp ;  a 
rich  trader  called  Hans  Jansen  was  put  to  death  at 
Flushing.  Many  offered  their  services  to  Prince 
Alexander  Farnese  and  were  encouraged  bv  gifts  of 
money.  The  Prince  of  Orange,  who  knew  all  this, 
felt  a  vague  presentiment  of  his  approaching  death, 
and  spoke  of  it  to  his  intimate  friends,  but  he  refused 
to  take  any  precautions  to  protect  his  life,  and  replied 
to  all  who  gave  him  such  counsel,  ''It  is  useless: 
God  has  numbered  my  years.  Let  it  be  according  to 
His  will.  If  there  is  any  wretch  who  does  not  fear 
death,  mv  life  is  in  his  power,  however  I  may  guard 
it."' 

Eight  attempts  were  made  upon  his  life  before  an 
assassin  fired  the  fatal  shot. 

When   the  deed  was  at  last  committed,   in   1584, 

four    scoundrels,    an    Englishman,    a    Scotchman,    a 
Vol.  I.— 10 


1 48  DELFT. 

Frenchman,  and  a  man  of  Lorraine,  unknown  to  each 
other,  were  all  awaiting  at  Delft  their  opportunity  to 
assassinate  him. 

Besides  these,  there  was  a  young  conspirator, 
twenty-seven  years  of  age,  from  Franche-Comte',  a 
Catholic,  A\ho  passed  himself  off  as  a  Protestant, 
Guyon  by  name,  the  son  of  a  certain  Feter  Guyon 
who  was  executed  at  Besan^on  for  embracing  Cal- 
vinism. This  Guyon,  whose  real  name  was  Balthazar 
Gerard,  was  believed  to  be  a  fugitive  from  the  perse- 
cutions of  the  Catholics.  He  led  an  austere  life  and 
took  part  in  all  the  services  of  the  Evangelical 
Church,  and  in  a  short  time  acquired  a  reputation 
for  especial  piety.  Saying  that  he  had  come  to  Delft 
to  beg  for  the  honor  of  serving  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
he  was  recommended  and  introduced  by  a  Protestant 
clergvman  :  he  inspired  the  Prince  with  confidence, 
and  was  sent  by  him  to  accompany  Hcrr  Van  Schone- 
walle,  the  envoy  of  the  States  of  Holland  to  the 
court  of  France.  In  a  short  time  he  returned  to 
Delft,  bringing  to  "William  the  tidings  of  the  death 
of  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  and  presented  himself  at  the 
convent  of  St.  Agatha,  where  the  Prince  was  staying 
with  his  court.  It  was  the  second  Sunday  in  July. 
William  received  him  in  his  chamber,  being  in  bed. 
They  were  alone.  Balthazar  Gerard  was  probably 
tempted  to  assassinate  him  at  that  moment,  but  he 
was  unarmed  and  restrained  himself.  Disguising  his 
impatience,  he  quietly  answered  all   the  questions   lie 


DELFT.  119 

was  asked.  William  gave  him  some  money,  told  him  to 
prepare  to  return  to  Paris,  and  ordered  him  to  come 
hack  the  next  day  to  get  his  letters  and  passport. 
With  the  money  he  received  from  the  Prince,  Gerard 
bought  two  pistols  from  a  soldier,  who  killed  himself 
when  he  knew  to  what  end  they  had  been  used,  and 
the  next  day,  the  10th  of  July,  he  again  presented 
himself  at  the  convent  of  St.  Agatha.  William, 
accompanied  by  several  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  his 
family,  was  descending  the  staircase  to  dine  in  a 
room  on  the  ground  floor.  On  his  arm  was  the  Prin- 
cess of  Orange,  his  fourth  wife,  that  gentle  and  un- 
fortunate Louisa  de  Coligny,  who  had  seen  her  father, 
the  admiral,  and  her  husband,  Seigneur  de  Teligny, 
killed  at  her  feet  on  the  eve  of  St.  Bartholomew. 
Balthazar  stepped  forward,  stopped  the  Prince,  and 
asked  him  to  sign  his  passport.  The  Prince  told  him 
to  return  later,  and  entered  the  dining-room.  No 
shade  of  suspicion  had  passed  through  his  mind. 
Louisa  de  Coligny,  however,  grown  cautious  and  sus- 
picious by  her  misfortunes,  became  anxious.  That 
pale  man,  wrapped  in  a  long  mantle,  had  a  sinister 
look  ;  his  voice  sounded  unnatural  and  his  face  was 
convulsed.  During  dinner  she  confided  her  suspi- 
cions to  William,  and  asked  him  who  that  man  was 
"who  had  the  wickedest  face  she  had  ever  seen." 
The  Prince  smiled,  told  her  it  was  Guyon,  reassured 
her.  and  was  as  gay  as  ever  during  the  dinner. 
When  he  had  finished  he  quietly  left  the  room  to  go 


150  DELFT. 

up  stairs  to  bis  apartments.  Gerard  was  waiting  for 
him  at  a  dark  turning  near  the  staircase,  hidden  in 
the  shadow  of  a  door.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  Prince 
approaching  he  advanced,  and  leaped  upon  him  just 
as  he  was  placing  his  foot  on  the  second  step.  lie 
fired  his  pistol,  which  was  loaded  with  three  bullets, 
straight  at  the  Prince's  breast,  and  fled.  William 
staggered  and  fell  into  the  arms  of  an  equerry.  All 
crowded  round.  "I  am  wounded,"  said  William  in 
a  feeble  voice.  .  .  .  ';  God  have  mercy  on  me  and  on 
my  poor  people  !"  He  was  all  covered  with  blood. 
His  sister,  Catherine  of  Schwartzburg,  asked,  "Dost 
thou  commend  thy  soul  to  Jesus  Christ?"  lie 
answered,  in  a  whisper,  "I  do."  It  was  his  last 
word.  They  placed  him  on  one  of  the  steps  and 
spoke  to  him,  but  he  was  no  longer  conscious.  They 
then  bore  him  into  a  room  near  by,  where  he  died. 

Gerard  had  crossed  the  stables,  had  fled  from  the 
convent,  and  reached  the  ramparts  of  the  town,  from 
which  he  hoped  to  leap  into  the  moat  and  swim  across 
to  the  opposite  bank,  where  a  horse  ready  saddled 
was  awaiting  him.  But  in  his  flight  he  let  fall  his 
hat  and  a  pistol.  A  servant  and  a  halberdier  in  the 
Prince's  service,  seeing  these  traces,  rushed  after  him. 
Just  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  jumping  he  stumbled, 
and  his  two  pursuers  overtook  and  seized  him.  "In- 
fernal traitor!"  they  cried.  "I  am  no  traitor,"  he 
answered  calmly  ;  "  I  am  a  faithful  servant  of  my 
master." — "Of  what   master?"  they   asked.      "Of 


Stairway  wbere  Milliam,  tbe  Silent,  was 

assassinated,  in  tbe  prinsenbof, 

Delft- 


DELFT.  151 

my  lord  and  master  the  King  of  Spain,"  answered 
Gerard.  By  ibis  time  other  halberdiers  and  pages 
had  come  up.  They  dragged  him  into  the  town, 
beating  him  with  their  fists  and  with  the  hilts  of  their 
swords.  The  wretch,  thinking  from  the  words  of  the 
crowd  that  the  Prince  was  not  dead,  exclaimed  with 
an  evil  composure,  "  Cursed  be  the  hand  whose  blow 
has  failed  !" 

This  deplorable  peace  of  mind  did  not  desert  him 
for  a  moment.  When  brought  before  the  judges, 
during  the  long  examination  in  the  cell  where  he 
was  thrown  laden  with  chains,  he  still  maintained 
the  same  remarkable  tranquillity.  He  bore  the  tor- 
ments to  which  he  was  condemned  without  letting  a 
cry  escape  him.  Between  the  various  tortures  to 
which  he  was  subjected,  while  the  officers  were  rest- 
ing, he  conversed  quietly  and  in  a  modest  manner. 
While  they  were  lacerating  him  every  now  and  then 
he  raised  his  bloody  head  from  the  rack  and  said, 
"Ecce  homo."  Several  times  he  thanked  the  judges 
for  the  nourishment  he  had  received,  and  wrote  his 
confessions  with  his  own  hand. 

He  was  born  at  Yillefranche  in  the  department  of 
Burgundy,  and  studied  law  with  a  solicitor  at  Dole, 
and  it  was  there  that  he  for  the  first  time  manifested 
his  wish  to  kill  William.  Planting  a  dagger  in  a 
door,  he  said,  "  Thus  would  I  thrust  a  sword  into  the 
breast  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  !"  Three  years  later, 
hearing  of  the  proclamation  of  Philip  II.,  he  went 


152  DELFT. 

to  Luxembourg,  intending  to  assassinate  the  Prince, 
but  was  stopped  by  the  false  report  of  bis  death  which 
had  been  spread  after  Jaurequy's  attempted  assassi- 
nation. Soon  after,  learning  that  William  still  lived, 
he  renewed  his  design,  and  went  to  Mechlin  to  seek 
counsel  from  the  Jesuits,  who  encouraged  him,  prom- 
ising him  a  martyr's  crown  if  he  lost  his  life  in  the 
enterprise.  lie  then  went  to  Tournay,  and  presented 
himself  to  Alexander  Farnese,  who  confirmed  the 
promises  of  King  Philip.  He  was  approved  and  en- 
couraged by  the  confidence  of  the  Prince  and  by  the 
priests ;  he  fortified  himself  by  reading  the  Bible,  by 
fasting  and  prayer,  and  then,  full  of  religious  exalta- 
tion, dreaming  of  angels  and  of  Paradise,  he  left  for 
Delft,  and  completed  his  "duty  as  a  good  Catholic 
and  faithful  subject." 

He  repeated  his  confessions  several  times  to  the 
judges,  without  one  word  of  remorse  or  penitence. 
On  the  contrary,  he  boasted  of  his  crime,  and  said 
he  was  a  new  David,  who  had  overthrown  a  new 
Goliath  ;  he  declared  that  if  he  had  not  already  killed 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  he  should  still  wish  to  do  the 
deed.  His  courage,  his  calmness,  his  contempt  of 
life,  his  profound  belief  that  he  had  accomplished  a 
holy  mission  and  would  die  a  glorious  death,  dismayed 
his  judges;  they  thought  he  must  be  possessed  by  the 
devil.  They  made  inquiries,  they  questioned  him, 
but  lie  always  gave  the  same  answer  that  his  conver- 
sation was  with  God  alone. 


DELFT.  153 

lie  was  sentenced  on  the  14th  of  July.  His  pun- 
ishment h:is  been  called  a  crime  against  the  memory 
of  the  jrrcat  man  whose  death  it  was  intended  to 
avenge — a  sentence  to  turn  faint  any  one  who  had 
not  superhuman  strength. 

The  assassin  was  condemned  to  have  Itis  hand  en- 
closed and  seared  in  a  tube  of  red-hot  iron,  to  have 
his  arms,  legs,  and  thighs  torn  to  pieces  with  burning 
pincers,  his  bowels  to  be  quartered,  his  heart  to  be 
torn  out  and  thrown  into  his  face,  his  head  to  be  dis- 
severed from  his  trunk  and  placed  on  a  pike,  his  body 
to  be  cut  in  four  pieces,  and  every  piece  to  be  hung 
on  a  gibbet  over  one  of  the  principal  gates  of  the  city. 

On  hearing  the  enumeration  of  these  horrible  tor- 
tures the  miserable  wretch  did  not  flinch  ;  he  showed 
no  sign  of  terror,  sorrow,  or  surprise.  lie  opened 
his  coat,  bared  his  breast,  and,  fixing  his  dauntless 
eyes  on  his  judges,  he  repeated  with  a  steady  voice 
his  customary  words,  "  Ecce  homo  !" 

Was  this  man  only  a  fanatic,  as  many  believed,  or 
a  monster  of  wickedness,  as  others  held,  or  was  he 
both  of  these  inspired  by  a  boundless  ambition  ? 

On  the  next  day  the  sentence  Avas  carried  into 
effect.  The  preparations  for  the  execution  were 
made  before  his  eyes;  he  regarded  them  with  indif- 
ference. The  executioner's  assistant  began  by  pound- 
ing into  pieces  the  pistol  with  which  he  had  perpe- 
trated the  crime.  At  the  first  blow  the  head  of  the 
hammer  fell  off  and  struck  another  assistant  on  the 


154  DELFT. 

ear.  The  crowd  laughed,  and  Gerard  laughed  too. 
"When  he  mounted  the  gallows  his  body  was  already 
horrible  to  behold.  He  was  silent  while  his  hand 
crackled  and  smoked  in  the  red-hot  tube ;  during 
the  time  when  the  red-hot  tongs  were  tearing  his 
flesh  he  uttered  no  cry ;  when  the  knife  penetrated 
into  his  entrails  he  bowed  his  head,  murmured  a  few 
incomprehensible  words,  and  expired. 

The  death  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  filled  the  coun- 
try  with  consternation.  His  body  lay  in  state  for 
a  month,  and  the  people  gathered  round  his  last  bed 
kneeling  and  weeping.  The  funeral  was  worthy  of  a 
king:  there  were  present  the  States  General  of  the 
United  Provinces,  the  Council  of  State,  and  the 
Estates  of  Holland,  the  magistrates,  the  clergy,  and 
the  princes  of  the  house  of  Nassau.  Twelve  noblemen 
bore  the  bier,  four  great  nobles  held  the  cords  of  the 
pall,  and  the  Prince's  horse  followed  splendidly  ca- 
parisoned and  led  by  his  equerry.  In  the  midst  of 
the  train  of  counts  and  barons  there  was  seen  a  young 
man,  eighteen  years  of  age,  who  was  destined  to  in- 
herit the  glorious  legacy  of  the  dead,  to  humble  the 
Spanish  arms,  and  to  compel  Spain  to  sue  for  a  truce 
and  to  recognize  the  independence  of  the  Netherlands. 
That  young  man  was  Maurice  of  Orange,  the  son  of 
William,  on  whom  the  Estates  of  Holland  a  short 
time  after  the  death  of  his  father  conferred  the  dignity 
of  Stadtholder,  and  to  whom  they  afterward  entrusted 
the  supreme  command  of  the  land  and  naval  forces. 


DELFT.  155 

While  Holland  was  mourning  the  death  of  the 
Prince  <>f  Orange,  the  Catholic  priesthood  in  all  the 
cities  under  Spanish  rule  were  rejoicing  over  the 
assassination  and  extolling  the  assassin.  The  Jesuits 
exalted  him  as  a  martyr,  the  University  of  Louvain 
published  his  defence,  the  canons  of  Bois-le-Duc 
chanted  a  Te  Deum.  After  a  few  years  the  King  of 
Spain  bestowed  on  Gerard's  family  a  title  and  the 
confiscated  property  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  in 
Burgundy. 

The  house  where  William  was  murdered  is  still 
standing:  it  is  a  dark-looking  building  with  arched 
windows  and  a  narrow  door,  and  forms  part  of  the 
cloister  of  an  old  cathedral  consecrated  to  St.  Agatha. 
It  still  bears  the  name  of  Prinsenhof,  although  it  is 
now  used  for  artillery  barracks.  I  got  permission 
to  enter  from  the  officer  on  guard.  A  corporal  who 
understood  a  little  French  accompanied  me.  We 
crossed  a  courtyard  full  of  soldiers,  and  arrived  at 
the  memorable  place.  I  saw  the  staircase  the  Prince 
was  mounting  when  he  was  attacked,  the  dark  corner 
where  Gerard  hid  himself,  the  door  of  the  room 
where  the  unfortunate  William  dined  for  the  last 
time,  and  the  mark  of  the  bullets  on  the  wall  in  a 
little  whitewashed  space  which  bears  a  Dutch  inscrip- 
tion reminding  one  that  here  died  the  father  of  his 
country.  The  corporal  showed  me  where  the  assassin 
had  fled.  While  I  was  looking  round,  with  that  pen- 
sive curiosity   that  one  feels  in   places  where   great 


15G  DELFT. 

crimes  have  been  committed,  soldiers  were  ascending 
and  descending;  they  stopped  to  look  at  me,  and 
then  went  away  singing  and  whistling;  some  near 
me  were  humming;  others  were  laughing  loudly  in 
the  courtyard.  All  this  youthful  gayety  was  in  sharp 
and  moving  contrast  to  the  sad  gravity  of  those  mem- 
ories, and  seemed  like  a  festival  of  children  in  the 
room  where  died  a  grandparent  whose  memory  we 
cherish. 

Opposite  the  barracks  is  the  oldest  church  in  Delft. 
It  contains  the  tomb  of  the  famous  Admiral  Tromp, 
the  veteran  of  the  Dutch  navy,  who  saw  thirty-two 
naval  battles,  and  in  1052,  at  the  battle  of  the  Downs, 
defeated  the  English  fleet  commanded  by  Blake.  lie 
re-entered  his  country  with  a  broom  tied  to  the  mast- 
head of  the  admiral's  ship  to  indicate  that  he  had 
swept  the  English  off  the  seas.  Here  also  is  the 
tomb  of  Peter  Heyn,  who  from  a  simple  fisherman  rose 
to  be  a  great  admiral,  and  took  that  memorable  net- 
ful of  Spanish  ships  that  had  under  their  hatches  more 
than  eleven  million  florins;  also  the  tomb  of  Leu- 
wenhoek,  the  father  of  the  science  of  the  infinitely 
small — who,  with  the  "  divining-glass,"  as  Parini 
savs,  "  saw  primitive  man  swimming  in  the  genital 
wave."  The  church  has  a  high  steeple  surmounted 
by  four  conical  turrets.  It  is  inclined  like  the  Tower 
of  Pisa,  because  the  ground  has  sunk  beneath  it. 
Gerard  was  imprisoned  in  one  of  the  cells  of  this 
tower  on  the  night  of  the  assassination. 


lRefector\>  of  tbe  Convent  of  St. 
B<jatba,  Delft. 


DELFT.  157 

At  Rotterdam  I  had  been  given  a  letter  to  a  citizen 
of  Delft  asking  him  to  show  me  his  house.  The  letter 
read:  ki  He  desires  to  penetrate  into  the  mysteries  of 
an  old  Dutch  house;  lift  for  a  moment  the  curtain 
of  the  sanctuary."  The  house  was  not  hard  to  find, 
and  as  soon  as  I  saw  it  I  said  to  myself,  tk  That  is  the 
house  for  me !" 

It  was  a  red  cottage,  one  story  in  height,  with  a 
long  peaked  gable,  situated  at  the  end  of  a  street 
which  stretched  out  into  the  country.  It  stood  almost 
on  the  a\iic  of  a  canal,  leaning  a  little  forward,  as  if  it 
wished  to  see  its  reflection  in  the  water.  A  pretty 
linden  tree  grew  in  front  which  spread  over  the  win- 
dow like  a  great  fan,  and  a  drawbridge  lay  before  the 
door.  Then  there  were  the  white  curtains,  the  green 
doors,  the  flowers,  the  looking-glasses — in  fact,  it  was 
a  perfect  little  model  of  a  Dutch  house. 

The  road  was  deserted.  Before  I  knocked  at  the 
door  I  waited  a  little  while,  looking  at  it  and  thinking. 
That  house  made  me  understand  Holland  better  than 
all  the  books  I  had  read.  It  was  at  the  same  time 
the  expression  and  the  reason  of  the  domestic  love,  of 
the  modest  desires,  and  the  independent  nature  of  the 
Dutch  people.  In  our  country  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  the  true  house :  there  are  only  divisions  in  barracks, 
abstract  habitations,  which  are  not  ours,  but  in  which 
Ave  live  hidden,  but  not  alone,  hearing  a  thousand 
noises  made  by  people  who  are  strangers  to  us,  who 
disturb  our  sorrows  with  the  echo  of  their  joys  and 


158  DELFT. 

interrupt  our  joys  with  the  echo  of  their  sorrows. 
The  real  home  is  in  Holland — a  house  of  ones  own, 
quite  separate  from  others,  modest,  circumspect,  and, 
by  reason  of  its  retirement,  unknown  to  mysteries 
and  intrigues.  When  the  inhabitants  of  the  house 
are  merry,  everything  is  bright;  when  they  are  sad, 
all  is  serious.  In  these  houses,  with  their  canals  and 
drawbridges,  every  modest  citizen  feels  something 
of  the  solitary  dignity  of  a  feudal  lord,  and  might 
imagine  himself  the  commander  of  a  fortress  or  the 
captain  of  a  ship;  and  indeed,  as  he  looks  from  his 
windows,  as  from  those  of  an  anchored  vessel,  he  sees 
a  boundless  level  plain,  which  inspires  him  with  just 
such  sentiments  of  freedom  and  solemnity  as  are 
awakened  by  the  sea.  The  trees  that  surround  his 
house  like  a  green  girdle  allow  onlv  a  delicate  broken 
light  to  enter  it;  boats  freighted  with  merchandise 
glide  noiselessly  past  his  door;  he  does  not  hear  the 
trampling  of  horses  or  the  cracking  of  whips,  or 
songs  or  street-cries;  all  the  activities  of  the  life  that 
surrounds  him  are  silent  and  gentle :  all  breathes  of 
peace  and  sweetness,  and  the  steeple  of  the  church 
hard  by  tells  the  hour  with  a  flood  of  harmony  as 
full  of  repose  and  constancy  as  are  his  affections  and 
his  work. 

I  knocked  at  the  door,  and  the  master  of  the  house 
opened  it.  lie  read  the  letter  which  I  gave  him, 
regarded  me  critically,  and  bade  me  enter.  It  is 
almost  always  thus.     At  the  first  meeting  the  Dutch 


DELFT.  159 

arc  apt  to  be  suspicious.  ^Ye  open  our  arms  to  any 
one  who  brings  us  a  letter  of  introduction  as  if  lie 
were  our  most  intimate  friend,  and  very  often  do 
nothing  for  him  afterward.  The  Dutch,  on  the  con- 
trary, receive  you  coldly — so  coldly,  indeed,  that 
sometimes  you  feel  mortified — but  afterward  they  do 
a  thousand  things  for  you  with  the  best  will  in  the 
world,  and  without  the  least  appearance  of  doing  you 
a  kindness. 

Within,  the  house  was  in  perfect  harmony  Avith  i!s 
outside  appearance ;  it  seemed  to  be  the  inside  of  a 
ship.  A  circular  wooden  staircase,  shining  like  pol- 
ished ebony,  led  to  the  upper  rooms.  There  were 
mats  and  carpets  on  the  stairs,  in  front  of  the  doors, 
and  on  the  floors.  The  rooms  were  as  small  as  cells, 
the  furniture  was  as  clean  as  possible,  the  door-plates, 
the  knobs,  the  nails,  the  brass  and  the  other  metal 
ornaments  were  as  bright  as  if  they  had  just  left  the 
hands  of  the  burnisher.  Everywhere  there  was  a 
profusion  of  porcelain  vases,  of  cups,  lamps,  mirrors, 
small  pictures,  bureaus,  cupboards,  knicknacks,  and 
small  objects  of  every  shape  and  for  every  use.  All 
were  marvellously  clean,  and  bespoke  the  thousand 
little  wants  that  the  love  of  a  sedentary  life  creates 
— the  careful  foresight,  the  continual  care,  the  taste 
for  little  things,  the  love  of  order,  the  economy  of 
space ;  in  short,  it  was  the  abode  of  a  quiet,  domestic 
woman. 

The  goddess  of  this   temple,  who  could  not  or  did 


ICO  DELFT. 

not  dare  speak  French,  was  hidden  in  some  inmost 
recess  which  I  did  not  succeed  in  discovering. 

We  went  down  stairs  to  see  the  kitchen  ;  it  was 
one  gleam  of  brightness.  When  I  returned  home  I 
described  it,  in  my  mother's  presence,  to  the  servant 
who  prided  herself  on  her  cleanliness,  and  she  was 
annihilated.  The  walls  were  as  white  as  snow  ;  the 
saucepans  reflected  everything  like  so  many  looking- 
glasses  ;  the  top  of  the  chimney-piece  was  ornamented 
by  a  sort  of  muslin  curtain  like  the  curtains  of  a  bed, 
bearing  no  trace  of  smoke;  the  wall  below  the  chimney 
was  covered  with  square  majolica  tiles  which  were  as 
clean  as  though  the  fire  had  never  been  lighted ;  the 
andirons,  shovel,  and  tongs,  the  chain  of  the  spit,  all 
seemed  to  be  of  burnished  steel.  A  lady  dressed  for 
a  ball  could  have  gone  round  the  room  and  into  all 
the  corners  and  touched  everything  without  getting 
a  speck  of  dirt  on  her  spotless  attire. 

At  this  moment  the  maid  was  cleaning  the  room, 
and  my  host  spoke  of  this  as  follows:  ''To  have  an 
idea  of  what  cleanliness  means  with  us,"  he  said,  "  one 
ought  to  watch  the  work  of  these  women  for  an  hour. 
Here  they  scrub,  wash,  and  brush  a  house  as  if  it  were 
a  person.  A  house  is  not  cleaned;  it  has  its  toilette 
made.  The  girls  blow  between  the  bricks,  they  rum- 
mage in  the  corners  with  their  nails  and  with  pins, 
and  clean  so  minutely  that  they  tire  their  eyes  no 
loss  than  their  arms.  Really  it  is  a  national  passion. 
These  giils.  who  are  generally  so  phlegmatic,  change 


DELFT.  1(51 

their  character  on  cleaning  day  and  become  frantic. 
That  day  Ave  arc  no  longer  masters  of  our  houses. 
They  invade  our  rooms,  turn  us  out,  sprinkle  us,  turn 
everything  topsy-turvy;  for  them  it  is  a  gala  day; 
they  are  like  bacchantes  of  cleanliness;  the  madness 
grows  as  they  'wash."  I  asked  him  to  what  he  at- 
tributed this  species  of  mania  for  which  Holland  is 
famous.  lie  gave  me  the  same  reasons  that  many 
others  hail  given;  the  atmosphere  of  their  country, 
which  greatly  injures  wood  and  metals,  the  damp, 
the  small  size  of  the  houses  and  the  number  of 
things  they  contain,  which  naturally  makes  it  difficult 
to  keep  them  clean,  the  superabundance  of  water, 
which  helps  the  work,  a  something  that  the  eye  seems 
to  require,  until  cleanliness  ends  by  appearing  beau- 
tiful, and,  lastly,  the  emulation  that  everywhere 
leads  to  excess.  '"But,"  he  added,  "this  is  not  the 
cleanest  part  of  Holland;  the  excess,  the  delirium  of 
cleanliness,  is  to  be  seen  in  the  northern  provinces." 
We  went  out  for  a  walk  about  the  town.  It  was 
not  yet  noon  ;  servants  were  to  be  seen  everywhere 
dressed  just  like  those  in  Rotterdam.  It  is  a  singular 
thing,  all  the  servant-maids  in  Holland,  from  Rotter- 
dam to  Groningen,  from  Haarlem  to  Nimeguen,  are 
dressed  in  the  same  color — light  mauve,  flowered 
or  dotted  with  stars  or  crosses — and  while  engaged 
in  cleaning  they  all  wear  a  sort  of  invalid's  cap  and 
a  pair  of  enormous  white  wooden  shoes.  At  first  I 
thought  that  thev  formed  a   national  association   re- 


162  DELFT. 

quiring  uniformity  in  dress.  They  are  generally  very 
young,  because  older  women  cannot  bear  the  fatigue 
they  have  to  endure ;  they  arc  fair  and  round,  with 
prodigious  posterior  curves  (an  observation  of  Di- 
derot) ;  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word  they  are  not 
at  all  pretty,  but  their  pink  and  white  complexions 
arc  marvellous,  and  they  look  the  picture  of  health, 
and  one  feels  that  it  would  be  delightful  to  press 
one's  cheek  to  theirs.  Their  rounded  forms  and 
line  coloring  arc  enhanced  by  their  plain  style 
of  dress,  especially  in  the  morning,  when  they  have 
their  sleeves  turned  up  and  necks  bare,  revealing 
flesh  as  fair  as  a  cherub's. 

Suddenly  I  remembered  a  note  I  had  made  in  my 
book  before  starting  for  Holland,  and  I  stopped  and 
asked  my  companion  this  question:  ''Are  the  Dutch 
servants  the  eternal  torment  of  their  mistresses?'' 

Here  I  must  make  a  short  digression.  It  is  well 
known  that  ladies  of  a  certain  age,  good  mothers  and 
good  housekeepers,  whose  soeial  position  does  not 
allow  them  to  leave  their  servants  to  themselves — 
who,  for  instance,  have  only  one  servant,  who  has  to 
be  both  cook  and  lady's  maid, — it  is  well  known  that 
such  ladies  often  talk  for  hours  on  this  subject.  The 
conversations  are  always  the  same — of  insupportable 
defects,  insolence  that  they  have  had  to  endure,  im- 
pertinent answers,  dishonesty  in  buying  the  things 
needed  for  the  kitchen,  of  waste,  untruthfulness,  im- 
mense pretensions,   of  discharges,   of  the  annoyance 


DELFT.  1G3 

of  searching  for  new  servants,  and  other  such  calam- 
ities; the  refrain  always  being  that  the  honest  and 
faithful  servants,  who  became  attached  to  the  family 
and  grew  old  in  the  same  service,  have  ceased  to 
exist;  now  one  is  obliged  to  change  them  continually, 
and  there  is  no  way  of  getting  back  to  the  old  order. 
Is  this  true  or  false?  Is  it  a  result  of  the  liberty 
and  equality  of  classes,  making  service  harder  to 
bear  and  the  servants  more  independent  ?  Is  it  an 
effect  of  the  relaxation  of  manners  and  of  public 
discipline,  which  has  made  itself  felt  even  in  the 
kitchen  ?  However  it  may  be,  the  fact  remains  that 
at  home  I  heard  this  subject  so  much  discussed  that 
one  day,  before  I  left  for  Spain,  I  said  to  my  mother, 
"  If  anything  in  Madrid  can  console  me  in  being  so 
far  from  my  family,  it  will  be  that  I  shall  hear  no 
more  of  this  odious  subject."  On  my  arrival  at 
Madrid  I  went  into  a  hostelry,  and  the  first  thing 
the  landlady  said  was  that  she  had  changed  her  maids 
three  times  in  a  month,  and  Avas  driven  to  despera- 
tion :  she  did  not  know  which  saint  to  pray  to:  and 
so  long  as  I  remained  there  the  same  lamentation 
continued.  On  my  return  home  I  told  my  family 
about  it ;  they  all  laughed,  and  my  mother  concluded 
that  there  must  be  the  same  trouble  in  every  country. 
"  No,"  said  I,  "  in  the  northern  countries  it  must  be 
different." — "You  will  see  that  I  am  right,"  my 
mother  answered.  I  went  to  Paris,  and  of  the  first 
housekeeper  with  whom  I  became  acquainted  I  asked 

Vol.  I.— 11 


161  DELFT. 

the  question,  "  Are  the  servants  here  the  everlasting 
torment  of  their  mistresses,  as  they  are  in  Italy  and 
Spain?" — "Ah  !  mon  clier  monsieur,"  she  answered, 
clasping  her  hands  and  looking  above  her,  "  ne  me 
parlez  pas  de  ca  /"  Then  followed  a  long  story  of  quar- 
rels, and  discharging  of  servants,  and  of  trials  which 
mistresses  have  to  endure.  I  wrote  the  news  to  my 
mother,  and  she  answered,  "  We  shall  see  in  London." 

I  went  to  London,  and  on  the  ship  which  was 
bearing  me  to  Antwerp  I  entered  into  conversation 
with  an  English  lady.  After  we  had  exchanged  a 
few  words,  and  I  had  explained  the  reason  of  my 
curiosity,  I  asked  the  usual  question.  She  turned 
away  her  head,  put  her  hand  to  her  forehead,  and 
then  replied,  emphasizing  each  word,  "  They  are  the 
jlagellum  Dei!" 

I  wrote  home  in  despair,  suggesting  however,  that 
I  still  trusted  in  Holland,  which  was  a  peaceful  coun- 
try, where  the  houses  were  so  tidy  and  clean  and  the 
home-life  so  sweet.  My  mother  answered  that  she 
thought  we  might  possibly  make  an  exception  of 
Holland.  But  we  were  both  rather  doubtful.  My 
curiosity  was  aroused,  and  she  was  expecting  the 
news  from  me ;  for  this  reason,  therefore,  I  put  the 
question  to  my  courteous  guide  at  Delft.  It  may 
be  imagined  with  what  impatience  I  awaited  his 
reply. 

"  Sir,"  answered  the  Dutchman  after  a  moment's 
reflection,  "I  can  only  give  you  this  reply :  in  Hoi- 


DELFT.  1G5 

land  we  have  a  proverb  which  says  that  the  maids 
are  the  cross  of  our  lives." 

I  was  completely  discouraged. 

"First  of  all,"  he  continued,  "the  annoyance  of 
living  in  a  large  house  is,  that  we  are  obliged  to  keep 
two  servants,  one  for  the  kitchen  and  one  for  clean- 
ing, since  it  is  almost  impossible,  with  the  mania  they 
have  of  washing  the  very  air,  that  one  servant  can 
do  both  things.  Then  they  have  an  unquenchable 
thirst  for  liberty :  they  insist  on  staying  out  till 
ten  in  the  evening  and  on  having  an  entire  holiday 
every  now  and  then.  Moreover,  their  sweethearts  must 
be  allowed  in  the  house,  or  they  come  to  fetch  them ; 
we  must  let  them  dance  in  the  streets,  and  they  are 
up  to  all  sorts  of  mischief  during  the  Kirmess  festi- 
val. Moreover,  when  they  are  discharged  we  are 
obliged  to  wait  until  they  choose  to  go,  and  some- 
times they  delay  for  months.  Add  to  this  account, 
wages  amounting  to  ninety  or  a  hundred  florins  a 
year,  as  well  as  the  payment  of  a  certain  percentage 
on  all  the  bills  the  master  pays,  tips  from  all  invited 
guests,  and  all  sorts  of  especial  presents  of  dress- 
goods  and  money  from  the  master,  and,  above  all  and 
always,  patience,  patience,  patience!" 

I  had  heard  enough  to  speak  with  authority  to  my 
mother,  and  I  turned  the  conversation  to  a  less  dis- 
tressing subject. 

On  passing  a  side  street  I  observed  a  lady  approach 
a  door,  read  a  piece  of  paper  attached  to  it,  make  a 


1G6  DELFT. 

gesture  of  distress,  and  pass  on.  A  moment  later 
another  woman  who  was  passing,  also  paused,  read  it, 
and  went  on.  I  asked  my  companion  for  an  expla- 
nation, and  he  told  me  of  a  very  curious  Dutch  cus- 
tom. On  that  piece  of  paper  was  written  the  notice 
that  a  certain  sick  person  was  worse.  In  many  towns 
of  Holland,  when  any  one  is  ill,  the  family  posts  such 
a  bulletin  on  the  door  every  day,  so  that  friends  and 
acquaintances  are  not  obliged  to  enter  the  house  to 
learn  the  news.  This  form  of  announcement  is  adopted 
on  other  occasions  also.  In  some  towns  they  an- 
nounce the  birth  of  a  child  by  tying  to  the  door  a 
ball  covered  with  red  silk  and  lace,  for  which  the 
Dutch  word  signifies  a  proof  of  birth.  If  the  child 
is  a  girl,  a  piece  of  white  paper  is  attached;  if  twins 
are  born,  the  lace  is  double,  and  for  some  days  after 
the  appearance  of  the  symbol  a  notice  is  posted  to 
the  effect  that  the  mother  and  child  are  well  and 
have  passed  a  good  night,  or  the  contrary  if  it  is 
otherwise.  At  one  time,  when  there  was  the  an- 
nouncement of  a  birth  on  a  door  the  creditors  of  the 
family  were  not  allowed  to  knock  for  nine  days ;  but 
1  believe  this  custom  has  died  out,  although  it  must 
have  had  the  beneficent  virtue  of  promoting  an  in- 
crease in  the  population. 

In  that  short  walk  through  the  streets  of  Delft  I 
met  some  gloomy  figures  like  those  I  had  noticed  at 
Rotterdam,  without  being  able  to  determine  whether 
they  were  priests,  magistrates,  or  gravediggers,  for 


Olfc  Delft. 


DELFT.  167 

in  their  dress  and  appearance  they  bore  a  certain 
resemblance  to  all  three.  They  wore  three-cornered 
huts,  with  long  black  veils  which  reached  to  the 
waist,  swallow-tailed  black  coats,  short  black  breeches, 
black  stockings,  black  cloaks,  buckled  shoes,  and 
white  cravats  and  gloves,  and  they  held  in  their 
hands  sheets  of  paper  bordered  with  black.  My 
companion  explained  to  me  that  they  were  called 
aanspreckers,  an  untranslatable  Dutch  word,  and  that 
their  duty  was  to  bear  the  information  of  deaths 
to  the  relatives  and  friends  of  the  defunct  and  to 
make  the  announcement  through  the  streets.  Their 
dress  differs  in  some  particulars  in  the  various  prov- 
inces and  also  according  to  the  religious  faith  of  the 
deceased.  In  some  towns  they  wear  immense  hats 
a  la  Don  Basilio.  They  are  generally  very  neat, 
and  arc  sometimes  dressed  with  a  care  that  contrasts 
strangely  with  their  business  as  messengers  of  death, 
or,  as  a  traveller  defines  them,  living  funeral  letters. 
We  noticed  one  of  these  men  who  had  stopped  in 
front  of  a  house,  and  my  companion  drew  my  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  the  shutters  were  partly  closed, 
and  observed  that  there  must  be  some  one  dead  there. 
I  asked  who  it  was.  "I  do  not  know7,"  he  replied, 
"but,  to  judge  from  the  shutters,  it  cannot  be  any 
near  relative  to  the  master  of  the  house."  As  this 
method  of  arguing  seemed  rather  strange  to  me,  he 
explained  that  in  Holland  when  any  one  dies  in 
a   family   they  shut    the  windows   and   one,   two,    or 


168  DELFT. 

three  of  the  divisions  of  the  folding  shutters  accord- 
ingly as  the  relationship  is  near  or  distant.  Each  sec- 
tion of  shutter  denotes  a  degree  of  relationship.  For 
a  father  or  mother  they  close  all  but  one,  for  a  cousin 
they  close  one  only,  for  a  brother  two,  and  so  on. 
It  appears  that  the  custom  is  very  old,  and  it  still 
continues,  because  in  that  country  no  custom  is  dis- 
continued for  caprice ;  nothing  is  changed  unless  the 
alteration  becomes  a  matter  of  serious  importance, 
and  unless  the  Hollanders  have  been  more  than  per- 
suaded that  such  a  change  is  for  the  better. 

I  should  like  to  have  seen  at  Delft  the  house 
where  was  the  tavern  of  the  artist  Steen,  where 
he  probably  passed  those  famous  debauches  which 
have  given  rise  to  so  many  questions  among  his 
biographers.  But  my  host  told  me  that  nothing  was 
known  about  it.  However,  apropos  of  painters,  he 
gave  me  the  pleasing  information  that  I  was  in  the 
part  of  Holland,  bounded  by  Delft,  the  Hague,  the 
sea,  the  town  of  Alkmaar,  the  Gulf  of  Amsterdam, 
and  the  ancient  Lake  of  Haarlem,  which  might  be 
called  the  fatherland  of  Dutch  painting,  both  because 
the  greatest  painters  were  born  there,  and  because  it 
presented  such  singularly  picturesque  effects  that  the 
artists  loved  and  studied  it  devotedly.  I  was  there- 
fore in  the  bosom  of  Holland,  and  when  I  left  Delft, 
I  was  going  into  its  very  heart. 

Before  leaving  I  again  glanced  hastily  over  the 
military  arsenal,  which  occupies  a  large  building,  and 


DELFT.  1G9 

which  originally  served  as  a  warehouse  to  the  East 
India  Company.  It  is  in  communication  with  an 
artillery  workshop  and  a  great  powder-magazine  out- 
side of  the  town.  At  Delft  there  still  remains  the 
great  polytechnic  school  for  engineers,  the  real  mili- 
tary academy  of  Holland,  for  from  it  come  forth  the 
officers  of  the  army  that  defends  the  country  from 
the  sea,  and  these  young  warriors  of  the  dykes  and 
locks,  about  three  hundred  in  number,  are  they  who 
give  life  to  the  peaceful  town  of  Grotius. 

As  I  was  stepping  into  the  vessel  which  was  to 
bear  me  to  the  Hague,  my  Dutch  friend  described 
the  last  of  those  students'  festivals  at  Delft  which 
are  celebrated  once  in  five  years.  It  was  one  of 
those  pageants  peculiar  to  Holland,  a  sort  of  histor- 
ical masquerade  like  a  reflection  of  the  magnificence 
of  the  past,  serving  to  remind  the  people  of  the 
traditions,  the  personages,  and  illustrious  events  of 
earlier  times.  A  great  cavalcade  represented  the  en- 
trance into  Arnheim,  in  1492,  of  Charles  of  Egmont, 
Duke  of  Gelderland,  Count  of  Zutphen.  He  be- 
longed to  that  family  of  Egmont  which  in  the  person 
of  the  noble  and  unfortunate  Count  Lamoral  gave 
the  first  great  martyr  of  Dutch  liberty  to  the  axe  of 
the  Duke  of  Alva.  Two  hundred  students  on  richly 
caparisoned  horses,  clothed  in  armor,  decorated  with 
mantles  embroidered  with  coats  of  arms,  with  waving 
plumes  and  large  swords  proudly  brandished,  formed 
the  retinue  of  the  Duke  of  Gelderland.     Then  came 


1 70  DELFT. 

halberdiers,  archers,  and  foot-soldiers  dressed  in  the 
pompous  fashion  of  the  fifteenth  century ;  bands 
played,  the  city  blazed  with  lights,  and  through  its 
streets  flowed  an  immense  crowd,  which  had  come 
from  every  part  of  Holland  to  enjoy  this  splendid 
vision  of  a  distant  age. 


THE  HAGUE. 


THE    HAGUE. 


The  boat  that  was  to  carry  me  to  the  Hague  was 
moored  near  a  bridge,  in  a  little  basin  formed  by  the 
canal  which  leads  from  Delft  to  the  Hague,  and 
shaded  by  trees  on  the  bank  like  a  garden  lake. 

The  boats  that  carry  passengers  from  town  to  town 
arc  called  in  Dutch  trekschuiten.  The  trekschuit  is 
the  traditional  boat,  as  emblematic  of  Holland  as  is 
the  gondola  of  Venice.  Esquiros  defined  it  as  "  the 
genius  of  ancient  Holland  floating  on  the  waters  ;" 
and,  in  fact,  any  one  who  has  not  travelled  in  a 
trekschuit  is  not  acquainted  with  Dutch  life  under  its 
most  original  and  poetic  aspect. 

It  is  a  large  boat,  almost  entirely  covered  with  a 
cabin  shaped  like  a  stage-coach  and  divided  into  two 
compartments — the  division  near  the  prow  being  for 
second-class  passengers,  and  that  near  the  poop  for 
first-class.  An  iron  pole  with  a  ring  at  the  end  is 
fastened  to  the  prow,  through  which  a  long  rope  is 
passed ;  this  is  tied  at  one  end  near  the  rudder  and 
at  the  other  end  is  fastened  a  tow-horse,  which  is  rid- 
den by  a  boatman.  The  windows  of  the  cabin  have 
white  curtains;   the  walls  and  doors  are  painted.      In 

173 


174  THE  HAGUE. 

the  compartment  for  first-class  passengers  there  are 
cushioned  seats,  a  little  table  with  books,  a  cupboard, 
a  mirror;  everything  is  neat  and  bright.  Inputting 
down  my  valise  I  allowed  some  ashes  from  my  cigar 
to  fall  under  the  table ;  a  minute  later,  when  I  re- 
turned, these  had  disappeared. 

I  was  the  only  passenger,  and  did  not  have  to  wait 
long ;  the  boatman  made  a  sign,  the  tow-boy  mounted 
his  horse,  and  the  treksehuit  began  to  glide  gently 
down  the  canal. 

It  was  about  an  hour  past  noon  and  the  sun  was 
shining  brightly,  but  the  boat  passed  along  in  the 
shade.  The  canal  is  bordered  by  two  rows  of  linden 
trees,  elms,  willows,  and  high  hedges  on  either  side, 
which  hide  the  country.  It  seemed  as  though  we  were 
sailing  across  a  forest.  At  every  curve  we  saw  green 
enclosed  views  in  the  distance,  with  windmills  here 
and  there  on  the  bank.  The  water  was  covered  with 
a  carpet  of  aquatic  plants,  and  in  some  parts  strewn 
with  white  flowers,  with  iris,  water-lilies,  and  the  water- 
lentil.  The  high  green  hedge  bordering  the  canal 
was  broken  here  and  there,  allowing  a  glimpse,  as  if 
through  a  window,  of  the  far-off  horizon  of  the  cham- 
paign; then  the  walls  would  close  again  in  an  instant. 

Every  now  and  then  we  encountered  a  bridge.  It 
was  pleasant  to  sec  the  rapidity  with  which  the  man 
on  horseback  and  another  man,  who  was  always  on 
guard,  handled  the  cords  to  let  the  treJcsehuit  pass, 
and  how  the  two  conductors  made  room  for  each  other 


On  tbe  Canal,  near  H)elft. 


THE  HAGUE.  175 

when  two  trekschuiten  met,  the  one  passing  Lis  rope 
under  that  of  the  other  without  speaking  a  word, 
without  greeting  each  other  even  with  a  smile,  as  if 
gravity  and  silence  were  obligatory.  All  along  the 
way  the  only  sound  to  be  heard  was  the  whirring  of 
the  arms  of  the  windmills. 

We  met  barges  laden  with  vegetables,  peat,  stones, 
and  barrels,  and  drawn  with  a  long  tow-rope  by  men, 
who  were  sometimes  aided  by  large  dogs  with  cords 
round  their  necks.  Some  were  towed  by  a  man,  a 
woman,  and  a  boy,  one  behind  the  other,  with  the 
rope  tied  to  a  sort  of  girth  made  of  leather  or  linen. 
All  three  would  be  leaning  forward  so  far  that  it 
was  hard  to  understand  how  they  managed  to  keep 
their  feet,  even  with  the  help  of  the  rope.  Other 
boats  were  towed  by  old  women  alone.  On  many,  a 
woman  with  a  child  at  her  breast  would  be  seen  at 
the  rudder;  other  children  were  grouped  around,  and 
one  might  see  a  cat  sitting  on  a  sack,  a  dog,  a  hen, 
pots  of  floAvers,  and  bird-cages.  On  some  women  sat 
knitting  stoekings  and  rocking  the  cradle  at  the  same 
time;  on  others  they  were  cooking;  sometimes  all  the 
members  of  the  family,  excepting  the  one  who  was 
towing,  were  eating  in  a  group.  The  look  of  peace 
that  beams  from  the  faces  of  those  people  and  the 
tranquil  appearance  of  those  aquatic  houses,  of  those 
animals  which  in  a  certain  measure  have  become 
amphibious,  the  serenity  of  that  floating  life,  the  air 
of  security  and  freedom  of  those  ^anderino;  and  soli- 


17G  THE  HAGUE. 

tary  families, — these  are  not  to  be  described.  Thus 
in  Holland  live  thousands  of  families  who  have  no 
other  houses  but  their  boats.  A  jnan  marries,  and 
the  wedded  couple  buy  a  boat,  make  it  their  home, 
and  carry  merchandise  from  one  market  to  another. 
Their  children  are  born  on  the  canals ;  they  are  bred 
and  grow  up  on  the  water;  the  barge  holds  their  house- 
hold goods,  their  small  savings,  their  domestic  mem- 
ories, their  aifections,  their  past,  and  all  their  present 
happiness  and  hopes  for  the  future.  They  work, 
save,  and  after  many  years  buy  a  larger  boat,  and 
sell  their  old  house  to  a  poorer  family  or  give  it  to 
their  eldest  son,  who  from  some  other  boat  takes 
a  wife,  at  whom  he  has  glanced  for  the  first  time  in 
an  encounter  on  the  canal.  Thus  from  barge  to 
barge,  from  canal  to  canal,  life  passes  silently  and 
peacefully,  like  the  wandering  boat  which  shelters  it 
and  the  slow  water  that  accompanies  it. 

For  some  time  I  saw  only  small  peasants'  houses 
on  the  banks ;  then  I  began  to  see  villas,  pavilions, 
and  cottages  half  hidden  among  the  trees,  and  in  the 
shadiest  corners  fair-haired  ladies  dressed  in  white, 
seated  book  in  hand,  or  some  fat  gentleman  envel- 
oped in  a  cloud  of  smoke  with  the  contented  air  of 
a  wealthy  merchant.  All  of  these  little  villas  arc 
painted  rose-color  or  azure;  they  have  varnished 
tile  roofs,  terraces  supported  by  columns,  little 
yards  in  front  or  around  them,  with  tidy  flower- 
beds   and     neatly-kept     paths ;    miniature    gardens, 


THE  HAGUE.  177 

clean,  closely  trimmed,  and  well  tended.  Some 
houses  stand  on  the  brink  of  the  canal  with  their 
foundations  in  the  water,  allowing  one  to  see  the 
flowers,  the  vases,  and  the  thousand  shining  trifles 
in  the  rooms.  Nearly  all  have  an  inscription  on  the 
door  which  is  the  aphorism  of  domestic  happiness, 
the  formula  of  the  philosophy  of  the  master,  as — 
"  Contentment  is  Riches,"  "Pleasure  and  Repose;" 
"  Friendship  and  Society  ;"  "  My  Desires  are  Satis- 
fied;" "Without  Weariness;"  "Tranquil  and  Con- 
tent;" "Here  we  Enjoy  the  Pleasures  of  Horticul- 
ture." Now  and  then  a  fine  black-and-white  cow, 
lying  on  the  bank  on  a  level  with  the  water,  would 
raise  her  head  quietly  and  look  toward  the  boat. 
We  met  flocks  of  ducks,  which  paddled  off  to  let  us 
pass.  Here  and  there,  to  the  right  and  left,  there 
were  little  canals  almost  covered  by  two  high  hedges, 
with  branches  intertwining  overhead  which  formed  a 
green  archway,  under  which  the  little  boats  of  the 
peasants  darted  and  disappeared  in  the  shadows.  From 
time  to  time,  in  the  midst  of  all  this  verdure,  a  group 
of  houses  would  suddenly  come  into  view,  a  neat 
many-colored  little  village,  with  its  looking-glasses 
and  its  tulips  at  the  windows,  and  without  a  sign  of 
life.  This  profound  silence  would  be  broken  by  a 
merry  chime  from  an  unseen  steeple.  It  was  a  pas- 
toral paradise,  a  landscape  of  idyllic  beauty  breath- 
ing freshness  and  mystery — a  Chinese  Arcadia,  with 
quaint  corners,  little  surprises,  and  innocent  artifices 


178  THE  HAGUE. 

of  prettiness,  all  which  seemed  like  so  many  low 
voices  of  invisible  beings  murmuring,  "  We  are  con- 
tent." 

At  a  certain  point  the  canal  divides  into  two 
branches,  of  which  one  hides  itself  amongst  the 
trees  and  leads  to  Leyden,  and  the  other  turns  to  the 
left  and  leads  to  the  Hague.  After  we  passed  this 
point  the  trekschuit  began  to  stop,  first  at  a  house, 
then  at  a  garden-gate,  to  receive  parcels,  letters,  and 
verbal  messages  to  be  carried  to  the  Hague. 

An  old  gentleman  came  on  board  from  a  villa  and 
took  a  seat  near  me.  lie  spoke  French,  and  we 
entered  into  conversation.  He  had  been  in  Italy, 
knew  some  words  of  Italian,  and  had  read  "  I  Pro- 
messi  Sposi."  He  asked  me  for  particulars  in  regard 
to  the  death  of  Alessandro  Manzoni.  After  ten 
minutes  I  adored  him.  He  gave  me  an  account  of 
the  trekschuit.  To  appreciate  the  poetry  of  this 
national  boat  it  is  necessary  to  take  long  journeys  in 
company  with  some  Dutch  people.  Then  they  all 
live  just  as  if  they  were  at  home;  the  women  work, 
the  men  smoke  on  the  roof;  they  dine  all  together, 
and  after  dinner  they  loiter  about  on'the  deck  to  see 
the  sun  set  ;  the  conversation  grows  very  intimate, 
and  the  company  becomes  a  family.  Night  comes 
on.  The  trekschuit  passes  like  a  shadow  through 
villages  steeped  in  silence,  glides  along  the  canals 
bathed  in  the  silver  light  of  the  moon,  hides  itself  in 
the  thickets,   reappears  in  the  open  country,  grazes 


THE  HAGUE.  179 

the  lonely  houses  from  which  beams  the  light  of  the 
peasant's  lamp,  and  meets  the  boats  of  fishermen, 
which  dart  past  like  phantoms.  In  that  profound 
peace,  lulled  by  the  slow  and  equal  motion  of  the 
boat,  men  and  women  fall  asleep  side  by  side,  and 
the  boat  leaves  nothing  in  its  Avake  save  the  confused 
murmur  of  the  water  and  the  sound  of  the  sleepers' 
breathing. 

As  we  went  on  our  way  gardens  and  villas  became 
more  frequent.  My  travelling  companion  showed 
me  a  distant  steeple,  and  pointed  out  the  village  of 
llyswick,  where  in  1G97  was  signed  the  celebrated 
treaty  of  peace  between  France,  England,  Spain, 
Germany,  and  Holland.  The  castle  of  the  Prince 
of  Orange,  where  the  treaty  was  signed,  is  no  longer 
standing.      An  obelisk  has  been  erected  on  its  site. 

Suddenly  the  treJcscJiuit  emerged  from  the  trees, 
and  I  saw  before  me  an  extended  plain,  a  large 
woodland,  and  a  city  crowned  with  towers  and  wind- 
mills. 

It  was  the  Hague. 

The  boatman  asked  me  to  pay  my  fare,  and  re- 
ceived the  money  in  a  leather  bag.  The  driver 
urged  on  the  horse,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  in 
town.  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  found  myself  in 
a  spotless  room  in  the  Hotel  du  Marechal  de  Turenne. 
Who  knows  ?  It  may  have  been  the  very  room  in 
which  the  celebrated  Marshal  slept  as  a  young  man 
when  he  was  in  the  service  of  the  house  of  Orange. 

Vol.  T. — 12 


180  THE  HAGUE. 

The  Hague — in  Dutch  'SGravenhage  or  'SHage — 
the  political  capital,  the  Washington  of  Holland, 
whose  New  York  is  Amsterdam — is  a  city  that  is 
partly  Dutch  and  partly  French.  It  has  wide  streets 
without  canals,  vast  wooded  squares,  grand  houses, 
splendid  hotels,  and  a  population  composed  in  great 
part  of  wealthy  citizens,  nobles,  public  officers,  men 
of  letters,  and  artists ;  in  a  word,  a  much  more  re- 
fined populace  than  that  of  any  of  the  other  cites  of 
Holland. 

What  most  impressed  me  in  my  first  walk  round 
the  city  were  the  new  quarters  where  dwells  the 
flower  of  the  moneyed  aristocracy.  In  no  other  city, 
not  even  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  in  Paris,  had 
I  ever  felt  myself  such  a  poor  devil  as  in  those 
streets.  They  are  wide  and  straight,  with  small 
palaces  on  either  side:  these  are  artistic  in  design  and 
harmonious  in  coloring,  with  large  windows  without 
blinds,  through  which  one  can  see  the  carpets,  vases 
of  flowers,  and  the  sumptuous  furniture  of  the  rooms 
on  the  ground  floor.  All  the  doors  were  closed,  and 
not  a  shop  was  to  be  seen,  not  an  advertisement  on 
the  walls,  not  a  stain  nor  a  straw  could  be  found,  if 
one  had  a  hundred  eyes.  When  I  passed  through 
the  streets  there  was  a  profound  silence.  Now 
and  then  an  aristocratic  carriage  rolled  past  me 
almost  noiselessly  over  the  brick  pavement,  or  I 
saw  some  stiff  lackey  standing  at  a  door,  or  the  fair 
head  of  some  lady  behind  a  curtain.     As   I   walked 


THE  HAGUE.  181 

close  to  the  windows,  1  could  see  out  of  the  corner  of 
my  eye  my  shabby  travelling-clothes  reflected  clearly 
in  the  large  panes  of  glass,  and  I  repented  not  having 
brought  my  gloves,  and  felt  a  certain  sense  of  humil- 
iation because  1  was  not  at,  least  a  knight  by  birth.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  now  and  then  1  could  hear  soft 
voices  saying,  "  Who  is  that  beggar?" 

The  most  noteworthy  part  of  the  old  town  is  the 
Binnenliof,  a  group  of  old  buildings  in  different  stvles 
of  architecture,  which  overlook  two  wide  squares  on 
two  sides  and  a  large  pool  on  the  third  side.  In  the 
midst  of  this  group  of  palaces,  towers,  and  monu- 
mental doors,  of  a  gloomy  mediaeval  appearance,  is  a 
spacious  courtyard  which  may  be  entered  by  three 
bridges  and  three  doors.  In  one  of  those  buildings  the 
Stadtholders  lived.  It  is  now  the  Second  Chamber 
of  the  States  General ;  opposite  to  it  are  located  the 
First  Chamber,  the  rooms  of  the  Ministry,  and  the 
other  offices  of  public  administration.  The  Minister 
of  the  Interior  has  his  office  in  a  little,  low,  black, 
gloomy  tower  which  leans  slightly  toward  the  water 
of  the  pool. 

The  Binnenliof,  the  Buitenhof  (a  square  extend- 
ing to  the  west),  and  the  Plaats  (another  square 
on  the  other  side  of  the  pool,  which  is  reached  by 
passing  under  an  old  door  that  once  formed  part  of  a 
prison)  were  the  scenes  of  the  most  bloody  events  in 
the  history  of  Holland. 

In  the  Binnenliof  the  venerable  Van  Olden  Barne- 


182  THE  HAGUE. 

veldt  was  beheaded.  He  was  the  second  founder  of 
the  republic,  the  most  illustrious  victim  of  the  long 
struggle  between  the  patrician  burghers  and  the 
Stadtholders,  between  the  republican  and  monarchical 
principles,  which  so  terribly  afflicted  Holland.  The 
scaffold  was  erected  in  front  of  the  building  where 
sat  the  States  General.  Opposite  was  the  tower 
from  which,  they  say,  Maurice  of  Orange,  unseen, 
assisted  at  the  execution  of  his  enemy.  In  the  prison 
between  the  two  squares  was  tortured  Cornelius  de 
AVitt,  who  was  unjustly  accused  of  plotting  against 
the  life  of  the  Prince  of  Orange.  The  furious  pop- 
ulace dragged  Cornelius  and  John  de  Witt,  the  Grand 
Pensionary,  into  the  Plaats  all  wounded  and  bleeding, 
and  there  they  were  spit  upon,  kicked,  and  slaugh- 
tered with  pike  and  pistol,  and  afterward  their  corpses 
were  mutilated  and  defiled.  In  the  same  square 
Adelaide  de  Poclgeest,  the  mistress  of  Albert,  Count 
of  Holland,  was  stabbed  on  the  22d  of  September 
in  the  year  1302,  and  the  stone  on  which  she  expired 
is  still  shown. 

These  sad  memories  and  those  heavy  low  doors, 
that  irregular  group  of  dark  buildings,  which  at 
night,  when  the  moon  lights  up  the  stagnant  pool, 
have  the  appearance  of  an  enormous  inaccessible 
castle  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  joyous  and  cul- 
tured  city, — arouse  a  feeling  of  awful  sadness.  At 
night  the  courtyard  is  lighted  only  by  an  occasional 
lamp;  the  few  people  who  pass  through  it  quicken 


TIIK  IIAfJUE.  183 

their  pace  as  if  thoy  are  afraid.  There  is  no  sound 
of  steps  to  be  heard,  no  lighted  windows  to  be  seen; 
one  enters  it  with  a  vague  restlessness,  and  leaves  it 
almost  with  pleasure. 

With  the  exception  of  the  Binnenhof,  the  Hague 
has  no  important  monuments  ancient  or  modern. 
There  are  several  mediocre  statues  of  the  Princes  of 
Orange,  a  vast,  naked  cathedral,  and  a  royal  palace 
of  modest  proportions.  On  many  of  the  public 
buildings  storks  are  carved,  the  stork  being  the  her- 
aldic animal  of  the  city.  Many  of  these  birds  walk 
about  freely  in  the  fish-market — they  are  kept  at  the 
expense  of  the  municipality,  like  the  bears  of  Berne 
and  the  eagles  of  Geneva. 

The  greatest  ornament  of  the  Hague  is  its  forest, 
which  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  Holland  and  one  of 
the  most  magnificent  parks  in  the  world. 

It  is  composed  of  alders,  oaks,  and  the  largest 
beech  trees  to  be  found  in  Europe.  It  is  more  than 
a  French  league  in  circumference,  and  is  situated  to 
the  east  of  the  city,  only  a  few  steps  from  the  last 
houses.  It  is  a  really  delightful  oasis  in  the  midst 
of  t lie  depressing  Dutch  plains.  When  one  has  en- 
tered the  wood  and  passed  beyond  the  fringe  of  pav- 
ilions, little  Swiss  cottages,  and  summer  houses  dotted 
about  among  the  first  trees,  one  seems  to  have  lost 
one's  self  in  a  lonely  interminable  forest.  The  trees 
are  as  thick  as  a  cancbrake,  the  avenues  are  lost  in 
the  dusk  :   there  are  lakes  and  canals  almost  hidden 


1S4  THE  HAGUE. 

by  the  verdure  of  the  banks ;  rustic  bridges,  the 
crossways  of  unfrequented  bridle-paths,  shady  re- 
cesses; and  over  all  a  cool,  refreshing  shade  in  which 
one  seems  to  breathe  the  air  of  virginal  nature  and 
to  be  far  removed  from  the  turmoil  of  the  world. 

They  say  that  this  wood,  like  that  of  the  town  of 
Haarlem,  is  the  remnant  of  an  immense  forest  which 
in  olden  times  covered  almost  the  whole  of  the  coast 
of  Holland,  and  the  Dutch  respect  it  as  a  monument 
of  their  national  history.  Indeed,  in  the  history  of 
Holland  there  arc  many  references  to  it,  proving  that 
at  all  times  it  was  preserved  with  a  most  jealous  care. 
Even  the  Spanish  generals  respected  this  national 
worship  and  shielded  the  sacred  wood  from  the  hands 
of  the  soldiers.  On  more  than  one  occasion  of  seri- 
ous financial  distress,  when  the  government  was  dis- 
posed to  decree  the  destruction  of  the  forest  for  the 
purpose  of  selling  the  wood,  the  citizens  exorcised 
the  danger  by  a  voluntary  offering.  This  beloved 
forest  is  connected  with  a  thousand  memories — rec- 
ords of  terrible  hurricanes,  of  the  amours  of  princes, 
of  celebrated  fetes,  of  romantic  adventures.  Some 
of  the  trees  bear  the  names  of  kings  and  emperors, 
others  of  German  electors;  one  beech  tree  is  said  to 
have  been  planted  by  the  grand  pensionary  and  poet 
Jacob  Catz,  three  others  by  the  Countess  of  Holland, 
Jacqueline  of  Bavaria,  and  they  still  point  out  the 
place  where  she  used  to  rest  after  her  walks.  Vol- 
taire n\<>   left   a    record   of  some  sort  of  gallant   ad- 


ZDc  JBinnenbof,  Ube  tmgue. 


TIIK  HAGUE.  185 

venture  which  lie  had  with  the  daughter  of  a  hair- 
dresser. 

In  the  centre  of  the  forest,  where  the  underbrush 
seems  determined  to  conquer  everything  and  springs 
up,  piling  itself  into  heaps,  climbing  the  trees,  creep- 
ing across  the  paths,  extending  over  the  water,  re- 
straining one's  steps  and  hiding  the  view  on  every 
side,  as  if  it  wished  to  conceal  the  shrine  of  some 
forgotten  sylvan  divinity, — at  this  spot  is  hidden  a 
small  royal  palace,  called  the  House-in-the-Wood,  a 
sort  of  Casa  del  Labrador  of  the  Villa  Aranjuez.  It  was 
erected  in  1G47  by  Princess  Amalia  of  Solms,  in  honor 
of  her  husband,  Frederick  Henry,  the  Stadtholder. 

When  I  went  to  visit  this  palace,  while  my  eyes 
were  busy  searching  for  the  visitors'  door,  I  saw  a 
lady  with  a  noble  and  benevolent  face  come  out  and 
get  into  her  carriage.  I  took  her  for  some  English 
traveller  who  had  brought  her  visit  to  a  close.  As 
the  carriage  passed  near  me,  I  raised  my  hat ;  the 
lady  bowed  her  head  and  disappeared. 

A  moment  later  one  of  the  ladies  in  waiting  at  the 
palace  told  me  that  this  "traveller"  -was  no  one  less 
than  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  of  Holland. 

I  felt  my  blood  How  faster.  The  word  queen,  in- 
dependently  of  the  person  to  whom  it  referred,  has 
always  had  this  effect  on  me,  although  I  cannot  ex- 
plain the  reason  of  it.  Perhaps  because  it  reminds 
me  of  certain  bright,  confused  visions  of  my  youth. 
The  romantic  imagination  of  a  bov  of  fifteen  is  some- 


18G  THE  HAGUE. 

times  content  to  tread  the  ground,  and  sometimes  it 
climbs  with  eager  audacity  to  a  giddy  height.  It 
dreams  of  supernatural  beauty,  of  intoxicating  per- 
fumes, of  consuming  love,  and  imagines  that  all  these 
are  comprised  in  the  mysterious  and  inaccessible 
creatures  that  fortune  has  placed  at  the  summit  of 
the  social  scale.  And  among  the  thousand  strange, 
foolish,  and  impossible  fancies  that  enter  his  mind 
he  dreams  of  scaling  towering  walls  in  the  dark  with 
youthful  agility,  of  passing  formidable  gates  and 
deep  ditches,  of  opening  mysterious  doors,  threading 
interminable  corridors  amidst  people  overcome  with 
sleep,  of  stepping  silently  through  immense  saloons, 
of  ascending  aerial  staircases,  mounting  the  stones  of 
a  tower  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  reaching  an  immense 
height  over  the  tall  trees  of  moonlit  gardens,  and  at 
last  of  arriving,  fainting  and  bleeding,  beneath  a  bal- 
cony, and  hearing  a  superhuman  voice  speak  in  ac- 
cents of  deep  pity,  of  answering  with  equal  tender- 
ness, of  bursting  into  tears  and  invoking  God,  of 
leaning  his  forehead  on  the  marble  and  covering  with 
desperate  kisses  a  foot  flashing  with  gems,  of  aban- 
doning his  face  in  the  perfumed  silks,  and  of  feeling 
his  reason  flee  and  life  desert  him  in  an  embrace 
more  than  human. 

In  this  palace,  called  the  House-in-the-Wood,  be- 
sides other  remarkable  things,  is  an  octagonal  room, 
the  walls  of  which  from  floor  to  ceiling  are  covered 
with   paintings  by  the  most  celebrated  artists  of  the 


THE  HAGUE.  187 

school  of  Rubens,  among  which  is  a  huge  allegorical 
painting  by  Jordaens  which  represents  the  apotheosis 
of  Frederick  Henry.  There  is  a  room  filled  with 
valuable  presents  from  the  Emperor  of  Japan,  the 
Viceroy  of  Egypt,  and  the  East  India  Company  ; 
and  an  elegant  little  room  decorated  with  designs  in 
chiaroscuro,  which  even  when  closely  examined  are 
taken  for  bas-reliefs.  These  are  the  work  of  Jacob 
de  Wit,  a  painter  who  at  the  beginning  of  the  last 
century  won  great  fame  in  this  art  of  delusion.  The 
other  rooms  are  small,  and  handsome  without  display; 
they  are  full  of  the  treasures  of  a  refined  taste,  as 
becomes  the  great  and  modest  house  of  Orange. 

The  custom  of  allowing  strangers  to  enter  the 
palace  the  moment  after  the  queen  came  out  seemed 
strange  to  me,  but  it  did  not  surprise  me  when  I 
learned  of  other  customs  and  other  popular  traits, 
and  in  a  word  the  character  of  the  royal  family  of 
Holland. 

In  Holland  the  sovereign  is  considered  as  a  stadt- 
holder  rather  than  as  a  king.  lie  has  in  him,  as  a 
certain  Spanish  republican  said  of  the  Duke  of  Aosta, 
the  least  quantity  possible  in  a  king.  The  sentiment 
of  the  Dutch  nation  toward  their  royal  family  is  not 
so  much  a  feeling  of  devotion  to  the  family  of  the 
monarch  as  affection  for  the  house  of  Orange,  which 
has  shared  its  triumphs  and  taken  part  in  its  misfor- 
tunes— which  has  lived  its  life  for  three  centuries.  At 
bottom,  the  country  is  republican,  and  its  monarchy 


188  THE  HAGUE. 

is  a  sort  of  crowned  presidency  void  of  regal  pomp. 
The  king  makes  speeches  at  the  banquets  and  at  the 
public  festivals  as  the  ministers  do  with  us,  and  he 
enjoys  the  fame  of  an  orator  because  his  speeches 
are  extemporary :  his  voice  is  very  powerful,  and  his 
eloquence  has  a  martial  ling,  which  arouses  great 
enthusiasm  among  the  people.  The  crown  prince, 
William  of  Orange,  studied  at  the  University  of 
Lcyden,  passed  the  public  examinations,  and  took 
his  degree  as  a  lawyer;  Prince  Alexander,  the  second 
son,  is  now  studying  at  the  same  university.  lie  is 
a  member  of  the  Students'  Club,  and  invites  his 
professors  and  fellow-students  to  dinner.  At  the 
Hague,  Prince  William  enters  the  cafes,  converses 
with  his  neighbors,  and  walks  about  the  streets  with 
his  young  gentlemen  friends.  In  the  wood  the  queen 
will  seat  herself  on  a  bench  beside  any  poor  old 
woman,  nor  can  one  say  she  does  this,  like  other 
princes,  to  acquire  popularity;  for  that  the  house 
of  Orange  can  neither  gain  nor  lose,  since  there 
is  not  in  the  nation  (although  it  is  republican  by 
nature  and  tradition)  the  least  sign  of  a  faction  that 
desires  a  republic  or  even  pronounces  its  name.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  people,  who  love  and  venerate 
their  king,  who  at  the  festivals  celebrated  in  his 
honor  will  remove  the  horses  and  themselves  draw 
his  carriage,  who  insist  on  every  one  wearing  an 
orange-colored  cockade  in  homage  to  the  name  of 
Orange, — in  ordinary  times  do  not  occupy  themselves 


THE  IIACJUE.  ISO 

at  all  about  his  affairs  and  family.  At  the  Hague  I 
had  some  trouble  to  learn  what  grade  the  crown 
prince  holds  in  the  army.  One  of  the  first  librarians 
in  the  town,  to  whom  1  put  my  question,  was  as- 
tonished at  mv  curiosity,  which  to  him  seemed  child- 
ish, and  he  told  me  that  probably  I  could  not  have 
found  a  hundred  people  in  the  Hague  who  would  have 
been  able  to  answer  my  question. 

The  seat  of  the  court  is  at  the  Hague,  but  the  king 
passes  a  large  part  of  the  summer  in  one  of  his  cas- 
tles in  Gelderland,  and  every  year  spends  some  days 
in  Amsterdam.  The  people  say  there  is  a  law  which 
obliges  the  king  to  spend  ten  days  during  the  year  at 
Amsterdam,  and  the  municipality  of  that  town  are 
obliged  to  pay  his  expenses  during  those  ten  days. 
After  midnight  of  the  tenth  day  even  a  match  that 
he  may  strike  to  light  his  cigar  is  at  his  own  expense. 

On  returning  from  the  royal  villa  at  the  Hague  I 
found  the  wood  enlivened  by  the  Sunday  promenade 
— music,  carriages,  a  crowd  of  ladies,  restaurants 
full  of  people,  and  swarms  of  children  everywhere. 

Then  for  the  first  time  I  saw  the  fair  sex  of  Hol- 
land. Beauty  is  a  rare  flower  in  Holland,  as  in  all 
other  countries;  notwithstanding,  in  a  walk  of  a  hun- 
dred steps  in  the  wood  ;it  the  Hague  I  saw  many 
more  beautiful  women  than  I  had  seen  iii  all  the  pic- 
tures in  the  Dutch  galleries.  These  ladies  do  not 
possess   the   statuesque   beauty    of  the    Romans,    the 


100  THE  HAGUE. 

splendid  color  of  the  English,  nor  the  vivacity  of  the 
Andalusians;  but  there  is  about  them  a  refinement, 
a  delightful  innocence  and  grace,  a  tranquil  beauty, 
a  pleasing  countenance;  they  have,  as  a  French  writer 
has  rightly  said,  the  attraction  of  the  valerian  flower 
which  ornaments  their  gardens.  They  are  plump, 
and  tall  rather  than  short,  they  have  regular  features, 
and  smooth  brilliant  complexions  of  a  beautiful  white 
and  delicate  pink — colors  which  seem  to  have  been 
suffused  by  the  breath  of  an  angel;  they  have  high 
cheek-bones ;  their  eyes  are  light  blue,  sometimes 
very  light,  and  sometimes  of  a  glassy  appearance, 
which  gives  them  a  vague,  wandering  look.  It  is  said 
that  their  teeth  are  not  good,  but  this  I  could  not 
confirm,  as  they  seldom  laugh.  They  walk  more 
heavily  than  the  French  and  not  so  stiffly  as  the  Eng- 
lish ;  they  dress  in  the  Parisian  mode,  and  the  ladies 
at  the  Hague  display  better  taste  than  those  at  Amster- 
dam, although  they  do  not  dress  so  richly:  they  all 
display  their  masses  of  fair  hair  with  considerable 
pride. 

I  was  astonished  to  see  girls  who  appeared  to  be 
fully  grown,  who  in  our  country  would  have  had  the 
airs  and  attire  of  women,  still  dressed  like  children, 
with  short  skirts  and  white  pantalettes.  In  Holland, 
where  life  is  easy  and  impatience  an  unknown  experi- 
ence, the  girls  are  in  no  hurry  to  leave  off  the  ways  and 
appearance  of  childhood,  and.  on  the  other  hand,  they 
seem   naturally  to  enter  at  a  comparatively  late  age 


THE    HAGUE.  191 

that  period  of  life  when,  as  Alessandro  Manzoni  says 
in  his  ever-admirable  way,  it  seems  as  though  a  mys- 
terious power  enters  the  soul,  which  soothes,  adorns, 
and  invigorates  all  its  inclinations  and  thoughts.. 
Here  a  girl  very  rarely  marries  before  her  twentieth 
year.  I  need  not  speak  of  the  children  of  the  Dec- 
can,  who.  it  is  said,  arc  married  at  eight  years  of  age, 
but  in  Holland  the  Italian  and  Spanish  girls,  who 
marry  at  fourteen  or  fifteen,  are  regarded  as  unac- 
countable persons.  There,  girls  of  fifteen  years  arc 
going  to  school  with  their  hair  down  their  backs,  and 
nobody  thinks  of  looking  at  them.  I  heard  a  young 
man  of  the  Hague  spoken  of  with  horror  by  his 
friends  because  he  was  enamoured  of  a  maiden  of 
this  ago,  for  to  their  minds  she  was  considered  as  an 
infant. 

Another  thing  one  notices  instantly  in  every  Dutch 
citv,  excepting  Amsterdam,  is  the  absence  of  that 
lower  stratum  of  society  known  as  the  demi-monde. 
There  is  nothing  in  dress  or  manner  to  indicate  the 
existence  of  such  a  class.  "Beware,"  said  some 
freethinking  Dutchmen  to  me;  "you  are  in  a  Protest- 
ant country,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  hypocrisy." 
This  may  be  true,  but  the  sore  that  can  be  hidden 
cannot  be  very  large.  Equivocal  society  does  not 
exist  among  the  Hollanders ;  there  is  no  shadow  of  it 
in  their  life  nor  any  hint  of  it  in  their  literature; 
the  very  language  rebels  against  translating  any  of 
those  numberless    expressions  which    constitute    the 


192  THE  HAGUE. 

dubious,  flashy,  easy  speech  of  that  class  of  society 
in  the  countries  where  it  is  found.  On  the  other 
hand,  neither  fathers  nor  mothers  close  their  eyes  to 
the  conduct  of  their  unmarried  sons,  even  if  they  be 
grown  men;  family  discipline  makes  no  exception  of 
long  beards;  and  this  strict  discipline  is  aided  by 
their  phlegmatic  nature,  their  habits  of  economy,  and 
their  respect  for  public  opinion. 

It  would  be  a  presumption  more  ridiculous  than 
impertinent  to  speak  of  the  character  and  life  of 
Dutch  women  with  an  air  of  experience,  when  I  have 
been  only  a  few  months  in  Holland ;  so  I  must  con- 
tent myself  with  letting  my  Dutch  friends  speak  for 
themselves. 

Many  writers  have  treated  Dutch  women  discourt- 
eously. One  calls  them  apathetic  housekeepers ; 
another,  who  shall  be  nameless,  carried  impertinence 
so  far  as  to  say  that,  like  the  men,  they  are  in  the 
habit  of  choosing  their  lovers  from  among  the  serv- 
ant class,  and  that  their  aspirations  are  necessarily 
low.  But  these  are  judgments  dictated  by  the  rage 
of  some  rejected  suitors.  Daniel  Stern  (Comtcsse 
d'Agoult),  Avho  as  a  woman  speaks  with  particular 
authority  on  this  subject,  says  the  women  of  Holland 
are  noble,  loyal,  active,  and  chaste.  A  few  authors 
venture  to  doubt  their  much-talkcd-of  calmness  in 
affection.  "They  are  still  waters,"  wrote  Esquiros, 
and  all  know  what  is  said  of  still  waters.  Heine 
said  they  were  fro/en  volcanoes,  and  that  when  they 


THE  HAGUE.  193 

thaw —  But,  of  all  the  opinions  I  have  read,  the  most 
remarkable  seems  to  me  that  of  Saint  Evremont — 
namely,  that  Dutch  women  are  not  lively  enough  to 
disturb  the  repose  of  the  men,  that  some  of  them  are 
certainly  amiable,  and  that  prudence  or  the  coldness 
of  their  nature  stands  them  in  stead  of  virtue. 

One  day,  in  a  group  of  young  men  at  the  Hague, 
I  quoted  this  opinion  of  Saint  Evremont,  and 
bluntly  demanded:  "Is  it  true?"  They  smiled, 
looked  at  each  other,  and  one  answered,  "It  is:" 
another,  "I  think  so;"  and  a  third,  "It  may  be." 
In  short,  they  all  admitted  its  truth.  On  another 
occasion  I  collected  evidence  proving  that  matters 
stand  just  as  they  were  at  the  time  of  the  French 
writer.  A  group  of  people  were  discussing  an  odd 
character.  "Yet,"  said  one,  "that  little  man  who 
seems  so  quiet  in  his  manner  is  a  great  ladies'  man." 
"Does  he  disturb  the  repose  of  families?"  I  asked. 
They  all  began  to  laugh,  and  one  answered  :  "What ! 
Disturb  the  repose  of  families  in  Holland?  It  would 
be  one  of  the  twelve  labors  of  Hercules." — "  We 
Hollanders,"  a  friend  once  said  to  me,  "do  not  take 
the  ladies  by  storm  ;  we  cannot  do  so,  because  we 
have  no  school  of  this  art.  Nothing  is  so  false  in 
Holland  as  the  famous  definition,  matrimony  is  like 
a  besieged  fortress ;  those  who  are  outside  wish  to 
enter,  while  those  who  are  inside  wish  they  were  out. 
Here  those  who  are  inside  are  very  happy,  and  those 
who  are  outside  do  not  think  of  entering."     Another 


194  THE  HAGUE. 

said  to  me,  "The  Dutch  woman  does  not  marry  the 
man;  she  espouses  matrimony."  This,  which  is  true 
of  the  Hague,  an  elegant  city  to  which  there  comes 
a  great  influx  of  French  civilization,  is  even  truer  of 
the  other  towns,  where  the  ancient  customs  have 
been  more  strictly  adhered  to.  Yet  gallant  travel- 
lers write  that  the  Hollanders  are  a  sleepy  people, 
and  that  their  domestic  happiness  is  uun  bonheur 
un  peu  grog."  The  woman  who  seldom  goes  out,  who 
dances  little  and  laughs  less,  who  occupies  herself 
only  with  her  children,  her  husband,  and  her  flowers, 
who  reads  her  books  on  theology,  and  surveys  the 
street  with  the  looking-glass,  so  that  she  need  not 
show  herself  at  the  window,  how  much  more  poetical 
is  she  than —  But  pardon  me,  Andalusia !  I  was 
about  to  say  something  rather  hard  on  you. 

Hitherto,  some  readers  may  think  that  I  have  been 
pretending  to  know  the  Dutch  language.  I  hasten  to 
say  that  I  do  not  know  it,  and  to  excuse  my  ignor- 
ance. A  people  like  the  Dutch,  serious  and  tactiturn, 
richer  in  hidden  qualities  than  in  brilliant  showy 
ones — a  people  who  are,  if  I  may  so  express  myself, 
self-contained  rather  than  superficial,  who  do  much 
and  talk  little,  who  do  not  pass  for  more  than  they 
are  worth — may  be  studied  without  a  knowledge  of 

their  lanjjuafrc.      On  the  other  hand,  the  French  lan- 
es     c 

guage  is  generally  known  in  Holland.  In  the  large 
cities  there  is  scarcely  an  educated  person  who  does 
not  speak  French  correctly,  scarcely  a  shopman  who 


THE  HAGUE.  195 

cannot  make  himself  understood  in  good  or  bad 
French,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  boy  who  is  not  ac- 
quainted with  ten  or  twenty  words  which  suffice  to 
help  a  stranger  out  of  a  dilemma.  This  diffusion  of  a 
lanjruaffe  so  different  from  that  of  the  country  is  the 
more  to  be  admired  when  one  reflects  that  it  is  not 
the  only  foreign  language  generally  spoken  in  Hol- 
land. English  and  German  are  almost  as  widely 
known  as  French.  The  study  of  these  three  lan- 
guages is  obligatory  in  the  secondary  schools.  Cul- 
tured people,  like  those  who  in  Italy  think  it  a  neces- 
sity to  know  French,  in  Holland  generally  read  Eng- 
lish, German,  and  French  with  equal  facility.  The 
Dutch  have  an  especial  talent  for  learning  languages, 
and  an  incredible  couraire  in  speaking  them.  We 
Italians  before  we  attempt  to  speak  a  foreign  language 
require  to  know  enough  about  it  to  avoid  making 
great  mistakes;  we  blush  when  we  do  make  them  ;  we 
avoid  the  opportunities  of  speaking  until  we  are  sure 
of  speaking  well  enough  to  be  complimented,  and  in 
this  way  we  continue  to  lengthen  the  period  of  our 
philological  novitiate.  In  Holland  one  often  meets 
people  who  speak  French  with  great  effort,  with  a 
vocabulary  of  perhaps  a  hundred  words  and  twenty 
sentences  ;  but  notwithstanding  they  talk,  hold  long 
conversations,  and  do  not  seem  to  be  at  all  worried 
about  what  one  may  think  of  their  blunders  and  their 
audacity.  Waiters,  porters,  and  boys,  when  asked 
if  they  know  French,  answer  with  the  greatest  assur- 

Voi..  I.— 13 


196  THE  HAGUE. 

ancc,  "Oui"  or  "  Un  pen"  and  they  try  in  a 
thousand  ways  to  make  themselves  understood,  laugh- 
ing themselves  sometimes  at  the  eccentric  contortion 
of  their  speech,  and  ending  every  answer  with  "  S'il 
vous  plait"  or  a  u  Pardon,  monsieur ;"  which  are 
often  said  so  prettily  and  yet  are  so  out  of  place  that 
they  make  one  laugh  even  against  one's  will.  It  is 
considered  such  a  common  thing  to  know  French  that 
when  any  one  is  obliged  to  answer  that  he  doesn't 
speak  French,  he  hesitates,  ashamed,  and  if  he  is 
interrogated  in  the  street  he  will  pretend  to  be  busy 
and  hurry  on. 

As  for  the  Dutch  language,  it  is  a  mystery  to  those 
who  do  not  know  German,  and  even  when  one  knows 
German  and  can  read  Dutch  books  with  a  little  study, 
one  cannot  understand  Dutch  when  it  is  spoken.  If 
I  were  asked  to  say  what  impression  it  makes  on  those 
who  do  not  understand  it,  I  should  say  that  it  seems 
like  German  spoken  by  people  with  a  hair  in  their 
throats.  This  effect  is  produced  by  the  frequent 
repetition  of  a  guttural  aspirate  which  is  like  the 
sound  of  the  Spanish  jota.  Even  the  Dutch  them- 
selves do  not  consider  their  language  euphonious.  I 
was  often  asked,  playfully,  "What  impression  does 
it  make  on  you?"  as  if  they  understood  that  the  im- 
pression could  not  be  altogether  agreeable.  Yet 
some  one  lias  written  a  book  proving  that  Adam  nnd 
Eve  spoke  Dutch  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.  But, 
although  the  Dutch  speak  so  many  foreign  languages, 


THE  HAGUE.  11)7 

they  hold  to  their  own,  and  grow  indignant  when 
any  ignorant  stranger  shows  that  he  believes  Dutch 
to  be  a  German  dialect,  this  being,  in  truth,  a  theory 
held  by  many  who  only  know  the  language  by  name. 
It  is  almost  superfluous  to  repeat  the  history  of  the 
language. 

The  first  inhabitants  of  the  country  spoke  Teu- 
tonic in  its  different  dialects.  These  dialects  were 
blended  and  formed  the  ancient  speech  of  the 
Netherlands,  which  in  the  Middle  Ages,  like  the 
other  European  languages,  passed  through  the  dif- 
ferent Germanic,  Norman,  and  French  phases,  and 
ended  in  the  present  Dutch  language,  in  which  there 
is  still  a  foundation  of  the  primitive  idiom  and  the 
evidence  of  a  slight  Latin  influence.  Certainly, 
there  is  a  striking  similarity  between  Dutch  and 
German,  and.  above  all,  there  are  a  number  of  root- 
words  common  to  the  two  ;  but  there  is,  however,  a 
great  difference  in  the  grammar,  that  of  the  Dutch 
being  much  simpler  in  construction,  and  the  pronun- 
ciation also  is  very  different.  This  very  likeness  is 
the  reason  that  the  Dutch  generally  do  not  speak 
German  so  well  as  they  speak  English  or  French; 
perhaps  the  difficulty  may  be  caused  by  the  ambiguity 
of  words,  or  because  it  costs  them  so  little  effort  to 
understand  the  language  and  to  speak  it  for  their 
own  use  that  they  stop  there,  as  we  often  do  with 
French,  which  we  speak  at  ten  years  of  age  and 
have  forgotten   at  forty. 


198  THE  HAGUE. 

Now  it  is  time  to  go  and  visit  the  art  gallery,  which 
is  the  greatest  ornament  of  the  Hague. 

On  entering  we  find  ourselves  at  once  before  the 
most  celebrated  of  all  painted  animals,  Paul  Potter's 
''  Bull  " — that  immortal  bull  which,  as  has  been  said, 
was  honored  at  the  Louvre,  when  the  mania  arose  of 
classifying  these  pictures  in  a  sort  of  hierarchy  of 
celebrity,  by  being  placed  near  the  "•Transfiguration" 
of  Raphael,  the  "  St  Peter  the  Martyr"  of  Titian, 
and  the  "  Communion  of  St.  Jerome  "  by  Domeni- 
chino ;  that  bull  for  which  England  would  pay  a 
million  francs,  and  Holland  would  not  sell  for  double 
that  sum  ;  the  bull  on  which  more  pages  have  been 
written  than  the  strokes  of  the  artist  on  the  canvas, 
and  about  which  critics  still  write  and  dispute  as  if 
it  were  a  real  living  creation  of  a  new  animal  instead 
of  a  picture. 

The  subject  of  the  picture  is  very  simple — a  life- 
size  bull,  standing  with  his  head  turned  toward  the 
spectator,  a  cow  lying  on  the  ground,  some  sheep,  a 
shepherd,  and  a  distant  landscape. 

The  supreme  merit  of  this  bull  may  be  expressed 
in  one  word:  it  is  alive.  The  serious  wondering  eye, 
which  gives  the  impression  of  vigorous  vitality  and 
savage  pride,  is  painted  with  such  truth  that  at  the 
first  sight  one  feels  inclined  to  dodge  to  the  right  or 
left,  as  one  does  in  a  country  road  when  one  meets 
such  animals.  His  moist  black  nostrils  seem  to  be 
smoking,  and   to  be  drawing  in   the  air  with  a  pro- 


Paul  potter's  Bull. 


THE  HAGUE.  190 

longed  breath.  His  hide  is  painted  with  all  its  folds 
and  wrinkles;  one  can  see  where  the  animal  has 
rubbed  himself  against  the  trees  and  the  ground;  the 
hairs  look  as  though  they  arc  stuck  on  the  canvas. 
The  other  animals  arc  equally  fine :  the  head  of  the 
cow,  the  fleece  of  the  sheep,  the  flies,  the  grass,  the 
leaves  and  fibres  of  the  plants,  the  moss, — everything 
is  rendered  with  extraordinary  fidelity.  Although 
the  infinite  care  the  artist  must  have  taken  is  appar- 
ent, the  fatigue  and  patience  of  the  copy  do  not  ap- 
pear; it  seems  almost  an  inspired,  impetuous  work, 
m  which  the  painter,  impelled  by  a  thirst  for  truth, 
has  not  felt  a  moment  of  hesitation  or  weariness. 
Infinite  criticisms  were  made  on  this  "incredible 
stroke  of  audacity  by  a  young  man  of  twenty-four." 
The  large  size  of  the  canvas  was  censured,  the  com- 
monplace nature  of  the  subject,  the  poverty  of  the 
light  effects,  for  the  light  is  equally  diffused  and 
everything  is  placed  in  relief  without  the  contrast  of 
shadow, — the  stiffness  of  the  legs  of  the  bull,  the 
crude  coloring  of  the  plants  and  animals  in  the  back- 
ground ;  the  mediocrity  of  the  shepherd's  figure. 
But,  for  all  this,  Paul  Potter's  bull  was  crowned  with 
glory  as  one  of  the  noblest  examples  of  art,  and 
Europe  considers  it  as  the  greatest  work  of  the 
prince  of  animal-painters.  An  illustrious  critic  yery 
rio-htly  said  that  "  Paul  Potter  with  his  bull  has 
written   the  true  idyl  of  Holland." 

Herein  is   the   great  merit  of   the  Dutch  animal- 


200  THE  HAGUE. 

painters,  and  of  Potter  above  all,  that  they  have  not 
only  depicted  animals,  but  have  revealed,  and  told  in 
the  poetry  of  color,  the  delicate,  attentive,  almost  ma- 
ternal love  with  which  this  Dutch  agricultural  people 
cherish  their  cattle.  Potter's  animals  interpret  the 
poetry  of  rural  life.  By  them  he  has  expressed  the 
silence  and  the  peace  of  the  meadows,  the  pleasure 
of  solitude,  the  sweetness  of  repose,  and  the  satis- 
faction of  patient  toil.  One  might  almost  say  that 
he  had  succeeded  in  making  himself  understood  by 
them,  and  that  they  must  have  put  themselves  in 
positions  to  be  copied.  He  has  given  them  the 
variety  and  attractiveness  of  human  beings.  The 
sadness,  the  quiet  content  which  follows  the  satisfac- 
tion of  physical  needs,  the  sensations  of  health  and 
strength,  of  love  and  gratitude  toward  mankind,  all 
the  glimmerings  of  intelligence  and  the  stirrings  of 
affection,  all  the  variety  of  nature — all  these  he  has 
understood  and  expressed  with  loving  fidelity,  and 
he  has  further  succeeded  in  communicating  to  us 
the  feelings  by  which  he  was  animated.  As  we  look 
at  his  pictures  a  strange  primitive  instinct  of  a  rural 
life  is  gradually  roused  in  us — an  innocent  desire  to 
milk,  to  shear,  to  drive  these  gentle  patient  animals 
that  delight  the  eve  and  heart.  In  this  art  Paul 
Potter  is  unsurpassed.  Berghem  is  more  refined, 
but  Potter  is  more  natural ;  Van  de  Velde  is  more 
graceful,  but  Potter  is  more  vigorous ;  Du  Jardin  is 
more  amiable,  but  Potter  is  more  profound. 


THE  HAG  UK.  201 

And  to  think  that  the  architect  who  afterward 
became  his  father-in-law  would  not  at  first  give  him 
his  daughter,  because  he  was  only  a  painter  of  ani- 
mals!  and  if  wc  may  believe  tradition  his  celebrated 
bull  served  as  a  sign  to  a  butcher's  shop  and  sold  for 
twelve  hundred  and  sixty  francs. 

Another  masterpiece  in  the  Hague  Gallery  is  a 
small  painting  by  Gerard  Don,  the  painter  of  the 
celebrated  "Dropsical  Woman,"  whieh  hangs  in  the 
Louvre  between  pictures  by  Raphael  and  Murillo. 
He  is  one  of  the  greatest  painters  of  the  home-life 
of  the  Dutch,  and  the  most  patient  of  the  patient 
artists  of  his  country.  The  picture  simply  represents 
a  woman  seated  near  a  window,  with  a  cradle  by  her 
side ;  but  in  this  humble  scene  there  is  such  a  sweet 
and  holy  air  of  domestic  peace,  a  repose  so  profound, 
a  love  so  harmonious,  that  the  most  obstinate  bachelor 
on  earth  could  not  look  on  it  without  feeling  an  irre- 
sistible desire  to  be  the  one  for  whom  the  wife  is 
waiting  in  that  quiet,  clean  room,  or  at  least  to  enter 
it  secretly  for  a  moment,  even  though  he  remain 
hidden  in  the  shadow,  if  so  he  might  breathe  the 
perfume  of  the  innocent  happiness  of  this  sanctuary. 
This  picture,  like  all  the  works  of  Dou,  is  painted 
with  that  wonderful  finish  which  he  carries  almost 
to  excess,  which  was  certainly  carried  to  excess  by 
Slingelandt,  Avho  worked  three  years  continuously  in 
painting  the  Meerman  family.  This  style  afterward 
degenerated  into  that  smooth,  affected,  painful  man- 


202  THE  HAGUE. 

nerisin  where  the  figures  are  like  ivory,  the  skies 
enamel,  and  the  fields  velvet,  of  which  Van  der 
Werff  is  the  best  known  representative.  Among 
other  things  to  be  seen  in  this  picture  by  Dou  is  a 
broom-handle,  the  size  of  a  pen-holder,  on  which 
they  say  the  artist  worked  assiduously  for  three  days. 
This  does  not  seem  strange  when  we  reflect  that  every 
minute  filament,  the  grain,  the  knots,  spots,  dents, 
and  finger-marks  are  all  reproduced.  Anecdotes  of 
his  superhuman  patience  are  recounted  which  arc 
scarcely  credible.  It  is  said  he  was  five  days  in 
copying  the  hand  of  a  Madam  Spirings  whose  por- 
trait he  painted.  Who  knows  how  long  he  was 
painting  her  head  ?  The  unhappy  creatures  who 
wished  to  be  painted  by  him  were  driven  to  madness. 
It  is  believed  that  he  ground  his  colors  himself,  and 
made  his  own  brushes,  and  that  he  kept  everything 
hermetically  closed,  so  that  no  particle  of  dust  could 
reach  his  work.  When  he  entered  his  studio  he 
opened  the  door  slowly,  sat  down  with  great  deliber- 
ation, and  then  remained  motionless  until  the  least 
sign  of  agitation  produced  by  the  exercise  had  ceased. 
Then  he  began  to  paint,  using  concave  glasses  to 
reduce  the  objects  in  size.  This  continual  effort 
ended  by  injuring  his  sight,  so  that  he  was  obliged 
to  work  with  spectacles.  Nevertheless,  his  color- 
ing never  became  weakened  or  less  vigorous,  and  his 
]  icnr.es  are  equally  strong  whether  one  looks  at  them 
near  by  or  far  off.     They  have  been  very  justly  com- 


THE  HAGUE.  203 

pared  to  natural  scenes  reduced  in  photographs.  Don 
was  one  of   the  many  disciples  of  Rembrandt  who 

divided  the  inheritance  of  his  genius.  From  his  mas- 
ter he  learned  finish  and  the  art  of  imitating  light, 
especially  the  effects  of  candle-light  and  of  lamps. 
Indeed,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  Amsterdam  Gallery, 
he  equalled  Rembrandt  in  these  respects.  lie  pos- 
sessed the  rare  merit  among  the  painters  of  his  school 
in  that  he  took  no  pleasure  in  painting  ugliness  and 
trivial  subjects. 

In  the  gallery  at  the  Hague  home-life  is  represented 
by  Don,  by  Adriaen  van  Ostade,  by  Steen,  and  by 
Van  Mieris  the  elder. 

Van  Ostade — called  the  Rembrandt  of  home-life, 
because  he  imitated  the  great  master  in  his  powerful 
effects  of  chiaroscuro,  of  delicate  shading,  of  trans- 
parency in  shadows,  of  rich  coloring — is  represented 
by  two  small  pictures  which  depict  the  inside  and 
outside  of  a  rustic  house.  Both  are  full  of  poetry, 
notwithstanding  the  triviality  of  the  subjects  which 
he  has  chosen  in  common  with  other  painters  of  his 
school.  But  he  has  this  peculiarity,  that  the  remark- 
ably ugly  girls  in  his  pictures  are  taken  from  his  own 
family,  which,  according  to  tradition,  was  a  group  of 
little  monstrosities,  whom  he  held  up  to  the  ridicule 
of  the  world.  Thus  nearly  all  the  Dutch  painters 
chose  to  paint  the  least  handsome  of  the  women  whom 
they  saw,  as  if  they  had  agreed  to  throw  discredit  on 
the  feminine   type  of   their  country.      Rembrandt's 


204  the  iiague. 

"  Susanna,"  to  cite  a  subject  -which  of  all  others 
required  beauty,  is  an  ugly  Dutch  servant,  and  the 
women  painted  by  Steen,  Brouwer,  and  others  are 
not  worth  mentioning.  And  yet,  as  we  have  seen, 
models  of  noble  and  gracious  beauty  were  not  wanting 
among  them. 

There  are  three  line  paintings  by  Frans  van  Mieris 
the  elder,  the  first  disciple  of  Dou,  and  as  finished 
and  minute  a  painter  as  his  master.  lie  together  with 
Metsu  and  Terburg,  two  artists  eminent  for  finish 
and  coloring,  belonged  to  that  group  of  painters  of 
home-life  who  chose  their  subjects  from  the  higher 
classes  of  society.  One  of  these  canvases  portrays 
the  artist  with  his  wife. 

Among  other  paintings,  Steen  is  represented  by 
his  favorite  subject,  a  doctor  feeling  the  pulse  of  a 
lovesick  girl  in  the  presence  of  her  duenna.  It  is  an 
admirable  study  of  expression,  of  piquant,  roguish 
smiles.  The  doctor's  face  seems  to  say,  "  I  think  I 
understand ;"  the  invalid's,  "  Something  more  than 
your  prescriptions  are  needed;"  the  duenna's,  "I 
know  what  she  wants."  Other  pictures  of  home-life 
by  Schaleken,  Tilborch,  Netscher,  William  van  Mieris 
represent  kitchens,  shops,  dinners,  and  the  families 
of  the  artists. 

Landscape  and  marine  painting  are  represented  by 
beautiful  gems  from  the  hands  of  Ruysdael,  Bcrghem, 
Van  de  Ycldc,  Van  der  Necr,  Bakhuisen,  and  Evcr- 
dingen.     There  arc  also  a  large  number  of  works  by 


THE  HAGUE.  20o 

Philips  Wouvcrman,  the  painter  of  horses  and  battle- 
pieces. 

There  are  two  pictures  by  Van  Iluysum,  the  great 
flower-painter,  who  was  born  at  a  time  when  Holland 
was  possessed  with  a  mad  love  of  flowers  and  culti- 
vated the  most  beautiful  flowers  in  Europe,  lie  cele- 
brated this  passion  with  his  brush  and  created  it  afresh 
in  his  pictures.  No  one  else  has  so  marvellously 
rendered  the  infinite  shades,  the  freshness,  the  transpa- 
rency, the  softness,  the  grace,  the  modesty,  the  languor, 
the  thousand  hidden  beauties,  all  the  appearances  of 
the  noble  and  delicate  life  of  the  pearl  of  vegetation, 
of  the  darling  of  nature,  the  flower.  The  Hollanders 
brought  to  him  all  the  miracles  of  their  gardens  that 
he  might  copy  them  ;  kings  asked  him  for  flowers ;  his 
pictures  were  sold  for  sums  that  in  those  days  were 
fabulous.  Jealous  of  his  wife  and  his  art,  he  worked 
alone,  unseen  by  his  fellow-artists,  lest  they  should 
discover  the  secret  of  his  coloring.  Thus  he  lived 
and  died,  glorious  and  melancholy,  in  the  midst  of 
petals  and  fragrance. 

But  the  greatest  work  in  the  gallery  is  the  cele- 
brated "Lesson  in  Anatomy"  by  Rembrandt. 

This  picture  was  inspired  by  a  feeling  of  gratitude 
to  Doctor  Tulp,  Professor  of  Anatomy  at  Amsterdam, 
who  protected  Rembrandt  in  his  youth.  Rembrandt 
portrays  Tulp  and  his  pupils  grouped  round  a  table 
on  which  is  stretched  a  naked  corpse,  whose  arm  has 
been  dissected  by  the  anatomist's  knife.     The  profes- 


20G  THE  ITAGUE. 

sor,  who  wears  his  hat,  stands  pointing  out  the  mus- 
cles of  the  arm  "with  his  scissors,  and  explaining  them 
to  his  pupils.  Some  of  the  scholars  are  seated, 
others  stand,  others  lean  over  the  body.  The  light 
coming  from  left  to  right  illuminates  their  faces  and 
a  part  of  the  dead  man,  leaving  their  garments,  the 
table,  and  the  walls  of  the  room  in  obscurity.  The 
figures  are  life-size. 

It  is  difficult  to  describe  the  effect  produced  by  this 
picture.  The  first  sensation  is  a  feeling  of  horror 
and  disgust  of  the  corpse.  Its  forehead  is  in  shadow, 
its  open  eyes  are  turned  upward,  its  mouth  half  shut 
as  if  in  amazement ;  the  chest  is  swollen,  its  legs  and 
feet  are  rigid,  the  flesh  is  livid  and  looks  as  if  it 
would  be  cold  to  the  touch.  In  great  contrast  to 
this  stiffened  corpse  are  the  living  attitudes  of  the  stu- 
dents, the  youthful  faces,  the  bright  eyes,  intent  and 
full  of  thought,  revealing,  in  different  degrees,  eager- 
ness to  learn,  the  joy  of  comprehension,  curiosity, 
astonishment,  the  effort  of  the  intellect,  the  activity 
of  the  mind.  The  face  of  the  master  is  calm,  his 
eve  is  serene,  and  his  lips  seem  smiling  with  the 
satisfaction  of  intimate  knowledge  of  his  subject. 
The  whole  group  is  surrounded  by  an  air  of  gravity, 
mystery,  and  scientific  solemnity  which  imposes  rev- 
erence and  silence.  The  contrast  between  the  light 
and  shade  is  as  marvellous  as  that  between  death  and 
life.  Everything  is  painted  with  infinite  pains;  it 
is  possible  to  count  the  little  folds  of  the  ruff,  the 


THE  HAGUE.  207 

wrinkles  in  the  face,  the  hairs  of  the  beard.  It  is 
said  that  the  foreshortening  of  the  corpse  is  incorrect, 
and  that  in  some  places  the  finish  degenerates  into 
hardness,  but  universal  approval  places  the  "  Lesson 
in  Anatomy  "  among  the  greatest  works  of  art  in  the 
world. 

Rembrandt  was  only  twenty-six  years  old  when  he 
painted  this  picture,  which  consequently  has  the 
mark  of  his  early  work.  The  impetuosity,  audacity, 
and  unequalled  assurance  of  his  genius,  which  shine 
forth  in  his  maturer  works,  are  not  yet  seen,  but  his 
immense  power  of  painting  light,  his  marvellous 
chiaroscuro,  his  fascinating  magic  of  contrast,  the 
most  original  features  of  his  genius,  are  all  to  be 
found  here. 

However  little  we  may  know  about  art,  and 
however  much  we  may  have  resolved  not  to  sin  by 
excess  of  enthusiasm,  when  we  come  face  to  face  with 
Rembrandt  van  Rijn,  we  cannot  help  opening  the 
flood-gates  of  language,  as  the  Spanish  say.  Rem- 
brandt  exerts  an  especial  fascination.  Fra  Angelico 
is  a  saint,  Michelangelo  is  a  giant,  Raphael  is  an 
angel,  Titian  a  prince,  Rembrandt  is  a  spectre.  What 
else  can  this  miller's  son  be  called?  Born  in  a  wind- 
mill, he  arose  unexpectedly  without  a  master,  without 
example,  without  any  instruction  from  the  schools,  to 
become  a  universal  painter,  who  depicted  life  in  every 
aspect,  who  painted  figures,  landscapes,  sea-pieces, 
animals,  saints,  patriarchs,  heroes,  monks,  riches  and 


203  THE  HAGUE. 

poverty,  deformity,  decrepitude,  the  ghetto,  taverns, 
hospitals,  and  death ;  who  in  short,  reviewed  heaven 
and  earth,  and  enveloped  everything  in  a  light  so 
mysterious  that  it  seems  to  have  issued  from  his 
brain.  His  work  is  at  the  same  time  grand  and  mi- 
nute. He  is  at  once  an  idealist  and  a  realist,  a  paint- 
er and  an  engraver,  who  transforms  everything  and 
conceals  nothing — who  changes  men  into  phantoms, 
the  most  ordinary  scenes  of  life  into  mysterious 
apparitions ;  I  had  almost  said  who  changes  this 
world  into  another  that  does  not  seem  to  be  and  yet 
is  the  same.  Whence  has  he  drawn  that  undefinable 
light,  those  flashes  of  electric  rays,  those  reflections 
of  unknown  stars  that  like  an  enigma  fill  us  with 
wonder  ?  What  did  this  dreamer,  this  vision- 
ary, see  in  the  dark  ?  What  is  the  secret  that  tor- 
mented his  soul?  What  did  this  painter  of  the  air 
mean  to  tell  us  in  this  eternal  conflict  of  light  and 
shadow  ?  It  is  said  that  the  contrasts  of  light  and 
shade  corresponded  in  him  to  moods  of  thought. 
And  truly  it  seems  that  as  Schiller,  before  beginning 
a  work,  felt  within  himself  an  indistinct  harmony  of 
sounds  which  were  a  prelude  to  his  inspiration,  so 
also  Rembrandt,  when  about  to  paint  a  picture,  beheld 
a  vision  of  rays  and  shadows  which  had  some  meaning 
to  him  before  he  animated  them  with  his  figures.  In 
his  paintings  there  is  a  life,  a  dramatic  action,  quite 
distinct  from  that  of  human  figures.  Flashes  <>f 
brilliant   lijrht    break    across   a   sombre   surface    like 


THE  HAGUE.  209 

cries  of  joy;  the  frightened  darkness  flies  away, 
leaving  here  and  there  a  melancholy  twilight,  trem- 
bling reflections  that  seem  to  be  lamenting,  profound 
obscurity  gloomy  and  threatening,  Hashes  of  dancing 
sunlight,  ambiguous  shadows,  shadows  uncertain  and 
transparent,  questionings  and  sighs,  words  of  a  su- 
pernatural language  like  music  heard  but  not  under- 
stood, which  remains  in  the  memory  like  a  dream. 
Into  this  atmosphere  he  plunged  his  figures,  some  of 
them  enveloped  by  the  garish  light  of  a  theatrical 
apotheosis,  others  veiled  like  ghosts,  others  revealed 
by  a  single  ray  of  light  darting  across  their  faces. 
AVhether  they  be  clothed  with  pomp  or  in  rags,  they 
all  are  alike  strange  and  fantastic.  The  outlines  are 
not  clear;  the  figures  are  loaded  with  powerful  colors, 
and  are  painted  with  such  bold  strokes  of  the  brush 
that  they  stand  out  in  sculpturesque  relief,  while 
over  all  is  an  expression  of  impetuosity  and  of  inspi- 
ration, that  proud,  capricious,  profound  imprint  of 
genius  that  knows  neither  restraint  nor  fear. 

After  all,  every  one  likes  to  give  his  opinion:  but 
who  knows,  if  Rembrandt  could  read  all  the  pages 
that  have  been  written  to  explain  the  secret  meanings 
of  his  art.  whether  he  would  not  burst  out  laughing? 
Such  is  the  fate  of  men  of  genius  :  every  one  holds 
that  he  has  understood  them  better  than  his  neighbor, 
nnd  restores  them  in  his  own  way.  They  are  like  a 
beautiful  theme  given  by  God  which  men  distort  into 
a  thousand   different  meanings — a  canvas  upon  which 


210  THE  HAGUE. 

the  imagination  of  man  paints  and  embroiders  after 
its  own  manner. 

I  left  the  Hague  Gallery  -with  one  desire  ungrati- 
fied :  I  had  not  found  in  it  any  picture  by  Jerom 
Bosch,  a  painter  born  at  Bois-le-Duc  in  the  fifteenth 
century.  This  madcap  of  mischief,  this  scarecrow 
of  bigots,  this  artistic  sorcerer,  had  made  my  flesh 
creep  first  in  the  gallery  at  Madrid  with  a  work  rep- 
resenting a  horrible  army  of  living  skeletons  scattered 
about  an  immense  space,  in  conflict  with  a  motley 
crowd  of  desperate  and  confused  men  and  women, 
whom  they  were  dragging  into  an  abyss  where  Death 
awaited  them.  Only  from  the  diseased  imagination 
of  a  man  alarmed  by  the  terrors  of  damnation  could 
such  an  extravagant  conception  have  issued.  When 
you  look  at  it,  however  long  it  may  be  since  you 
were  afraid  of  phantoms,  you  feel  a  confused  reawak- 
ening dread.  Such  were  the  subjects  of  all  his 
pictures — the  tortures  of  the  accursed,  spectres,  fiery 
chasms,  dragons,  uncanny  birds,  loathsome  monsters, 
diabolical  kitchens,  sinister  landscapes.  One  of  these 
frightful  pictures  was  found  in  the  cell  were  Philip 
II.  died;  others  are  scattered  throughout  Spain  and 
Italy.  Who  was  this  chimerical  painter?  How  did 
he  live?  What  strange  mania  tormented  him?  No 
one  knows;  he  passed  over  the  earth  wrapped  in  a 
cloud,  and  disappeared  like  an  infernal  vision. 

On  the  first  floor  of  the  museum  there  is  a  "  Royal 
Cabinet   of  Curiosities,"   which    contains   some  very 


THE  HAGUE.  211 

precious  historical  relics,  besides  a  great  number  of 
different  objects  from  China,  Japan,  and  the  Dutch 
colonies.  Amongst  other  things  there  is  the  sword 
of  that  Iluyter  who  began  life  as  a  rope-maker  at 
Ylissingen,  and  became  the  greatest  admiral  of  Hol- 
land ;  Admiral  Tromp's  cuirass  perforated  by  bul- 
lets;  a  chair  from  the  prison  of  the  venerated  Barne- 
veldt;  a  box  containing  a  lock  of  hair  from  the  head 
of  that  Van  Speyk  who  in  1831,  on  the  Schelde, 
blew  up  his  vessel  to  preserve  the  honor  of  the  Dutch 
flag.  Here,  too,  is  the  complete  suit  of  clothes  worn 
by  William  the  Silent  when  he  was  assassinated  at 
Delft — the  blood-stained  shirt,  the  jacket  made  of 
buffalo  skin  pierced  by  bullets,  the  wide  trousers,  the 
large  felt  hat;  and  in  the  same  glass  case  are  also 
preserved  the  bullets  and  pistols  of  the  assassin  and 
the  original  copy  of  his  death-warrant. 

This  modest,  almost  rough  dress,  that  was  worn  at 
the  zenith  of  his  power  and  glory  by  William,  the 
head  of  the  Republic  of  the  Netherlands,  is  a  noble  tes- 
timony to  the  patriarchal  simplicity  of  Dutch  manners. 
There  is  perhaps  no  other  modern  nation,  equally 
prosperous,  that  has  been  less  given  to  vanity  and  pomp. 
It  is  related  that  when  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  who  was 
commissioned  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  arrived  in  Holland, 
and  when  Spinola  came  to  sue  for  peace  in  the  name 
of  the  King  of  Spain,  their  magnificence  was  consid- 
ered almost  infamous.  It  is  further  said  that  the 
Spanish  ambassadors  who  came  to  the  Hague  in  1G08 

Vol.  I.—U 


212  THE  HAGUE. 

to  negotiate  the  famous  truce  saw  some  deputies  of 
the  Dutch  States  seated  in  a  field,  meanly  clad  and 
breakfasting  on  a  little  bread  and  cheese  which  they 
had  carried  in  their  saddle-bags.  The  Grand  Pen- 
sionary, John  De  Witt,  the  adversary  of  Louis  XIV., 
kept  only  one  servant.  Admiral  Iluyter  lived  at 
Amsterdam  in  the  house  of  a  poor  man  and  swept 
out  his  own  bedroom. 

Another  very  curious  object  in  the  museum  is  a 
cabinet  which  opens  in  front  like  a  book-case,  repre- 
senting in  all  its  most  minute  details  the  inside  of  a 
luxurious  Amsterdam  house  at  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  The  Czar,  Peter  the  Great, 
during  his  stay  in  Amsterdam,  commissioned  a  rich 
citizen  of  that  town  to  make  for  him  this  toy  house, 
in  order  that  he  might  take  it  back  to  Russia  as  a 
souvenir  of  Holland.  The  rich  citizen,  whose  name 
was  Brandt,  executed  the  order  like  an  honest  Dutch- 
man, slowly  and  well.  The  best  cabinet-makers  in 
Holland  made  the  furniture,  the  cleverest  silver- 
smiths the  plate,  the  most  accurate  printers  printed 
the  tiny  books,  the  finest  miniature-painters  painted 
the  pictures ;  the  linen  was  prepared  in  Flanders,  the 
hangings  were  made  at  Utrecht.  After  twenty-five 
years  of  work  all  the  rooms  were  ready.  In  the 
nuptial  chamber  everything  was  prepared  for  the 
confinement  of  the  young  mistress;  in  the  dining- 
room  stood  a  microscopic  tea  service  on  a  table  which 
was  the  size  of  a  crown ;  the  picture-gallery,  which 


THE  HAGUE.  21:3 

was  scon  through  a  magnifying  glass,  was  complete; 
in  the  kitchen  was  everything  needful  to  prepare  a 
savory  dinner  for  a  group  of  Liliputians ;  there  was 
a  library,  and  a  cabinet  of  Chinese  objects,  birdcages 
full  of  birds,  prayer-books,  carpets,  linen  for  a  whole 
family  trimmed  with  lace  and  fine  embroidery:  there 
were  lacking  only  a  married  couple,  a  lady's  maid, 
and  a  cook  rather  smaller  than  ordinary  marionettes. 
But  there  was  one  drawback:  the  house  cost  a  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  francs,  and  the  Czar,  who  as 
all  know,  was  an  economical  man,  refused  it,  and 
Brandt,  to  shame  the  imperial  avarice,  presented  it 
to  the  Museum  of  the  Hague. 

In  the  streets  of  the  Hague,  from  the  first  day,  I 
had  met  women  dressed  in  such  a  peculiar  manner 
that  I  had  followed  them  to  observe  every  particular 
of  their  costume.  At  first  sight  I  thought  that  they 
must  belong  to  some  religious  order  or  that  they  were 
hermits,  pilgrims,  or  women  of  some  nomadic  tribes 
which  were  passing  through  Holland.  They  wore 
immense  straw  hats  lined  with  flowered  calico,  short 
chocolate-colored  monk's  cloaks  made  of  serge  and 
lined  with  red  cloth  ;  their  petticoats  were  also  of 
serge,  short  and  pulled  out  as  though  they  wore 
crinolines  ;  they  wore  black  stockings  and  white 
wooden  shoes.  In  the  morning  they  might  be  seen 
going  to  market  bearing  on  their  heads  baskets  full 
of  fish  or  driving  carts  drawn  by  dogs.  They 
usually  went  alone   or  in   pairs,   without  any  men. 


214  THE  HAGUE. 

They  walked  in  a  peculiar  manner,  taking  long 
strides,  with  a  certain  air  of  despondency,  like  those 
who  aie  accustomed  to  walking  on  the  sand;  there  was 
a  sadness  in  their  expression  and  appearance  which 
harmonized  with  the  monastic  austerity  of  their  attire. 

I  asked  a  Dutchman  who  they  were,  and  the  only 
answer  he  gave  me  was,  "  Go  to  Scheveningen." 

Scheveningen  is  a  village  two  miles  from  the 
Hague,  and  connected  with  it  by  a  straight  road  bor- 
dered alonir  its  whole  length  by  several  rows  of  beau- 
tiful  elms,  which  form  a  perfect  shade.  On  either 
side  of  the  road,  beyond  the  elms,  there  are  small 
villas,  pavilions,  and  cottages  with  roofs  that  look 
like  the  kiosks  of  the  gardens,  and  with  facades  of  a 
thousand  fantastic  shapes,  all  bearing  the  usual  in- 
scriptions inviting  to  repose  and  pleasure.  This  road 
is  the  favorite  promenade  of  the  citizens  of  the  Hague 
on  Sunday  evenings,  but  on  the  other  days  of  the 
week  it  is  almost  always  deserted.  One  meets  only 
a  few  women  from  Scheveningen.  and  now  and  then 
a  carriage  or  the  coaches  that  come  and  cro  between 
the  town  and  the  village.  As  one  walks  along  it 
seems  as  though  the  road  must  lead  to  some  royal 
palace  surrounded  by  a  large  garden  or  a  wide  park. 
The  luxuriant  vegetation,  the  shadow  and  silence, 
call  to  mind  the  forests  of  Andalusia  and  Granada. 
One  no  longer  remembers  Scheveningen  and  forgets 
that  he  is  in  Holland. 

When  the  end  of  the  road  is  reached  the  change 


On  tbc  1Roao  to  Scbeveninoen. 


THE   HAGUE.  215 

of  scene  is  so  sudden  that  it  seems  unreal.  The 
vegetation,  the  shade,  the  likeness  to  Granada, — all 
have  disappeared,  and  one  stands  in  the  midst  of 
dunes,  sand,  and  desert;  one  feels  the  salt  wind  blow 
and  hears  its  dull  confused  sound.  From  the  summit 
of  one  of  the  dunes  one  may  see  the  North  Sea. 

One  who  has  seen  only  the  Mediterranean  is  im- 
pressed by  a,  new  and  profound  feeling  at  sight  of 
that  sea  and  shore.  The  beach  is  formed  of  very 
fine,  light-colored  sand,  over  "which  the  outermost 
edges  of  the  waves  flow  up  and  down  like  a  carpet 
which  is  being  continually  folded  and  unfolded. 
This  sandy  sea-shore  extends  to  the  foot  of  the  first 
dunes,  which  are  steep,  broken,  corroded  mounds 
deformed  by  the  eternal  beating  of  the  waves.  Such 
is  the  Dutch  coast  from  the  mouth  of  the  Mouse  to 
the  Holder.  There  are  no  mollusks,  no  star-fish,  no 
shells  or  crabs;  there  is  not  a  single  bush  or  blade  of 
grass.     Nothing  is  seen  but  sand,  waste,  and  solitude. 

The  sea  is  no  less  mournful  than  the  coast.  It 
corresponds  closely  to  one's  ideas  of  the  North  Sea, 
formed  by  reading  about  the  superstitious  terrors  of 
the  ancients,  "who  believed  it  to  be  driven  by  eternal 
winds  and  peopled  by  gigantic  monsters.  Near  the 
shore  its  color  is  yellowish,  farther  our  a  pale  green, 
and  still  farther  out  a  dreary  blue.  The  horizon  is 
usually  veiled  by  the  mist,  which  often  descends  even 
to  the  shore  and  hides  all  the  waters  with  its  thick 
curtain,  which  is  raised  to  show  only  the  waves  that 


216  THE  HAGUE. 

come  to  die  on  the  sand  and  some  shadowy  fisher- 
man's boat  close  to  land.  The  sky  is  almost  always 
gray,  overcast  with  great  clouds  which  throw  dense 
changeable  shadows  on  the  waters:  in  places  these 
are  as  black  as  night,  and  bring  to  mind  images  of 
tempests  and  horrible  shipwrecks;  in  other  parts  the 
sky  is  lighted  up  by  patches  and  wavy  streaks  of 
bright  light,  which  seem  like  motionless  lightning  or 
an  illumination  from  mysterious  stars.  The  ceaseless 
waves  gnaw  the  shore  in  wild  fury,  with  a  prolonged 
roar  which  seems  like  a  cry  of  defiance  or  the  Avail- 
ing of  an  infinite  crowd.  Sea,  sky,  and  earth  regard 
each  other  gloomily,  as  though  they  were  three  im- 
placable enemies.  As  one  contemplates  this  scene 
some  great  convulsion  of  nature  seems  imminent. 

The  village  of  Scheveningen  is  situated  on  the 
dunes,  which  ward  off  the  sea,  and  hide  it  so  entirely 
that  from  the  shore  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  the 
cone-shaped  church-steeple  rising  like  an  obelisk  in 
the  midst  of  the  sand.  The  village  is  divided  into  two 
parts,  one  of  which  is  composed  of  elegant  houses 
representing  every  kind  of  Dutch  shapes  and  colors, 
and  built  for  the  use  of  strangers,  with  "to  let" 
posted  <»n  them  in  various  languages.  The  other  part, 
in  which  the  natives  live,  consists  of  black  cottages, 
little  streets,  and  retreats  which  foreigners  never 
think  of  entering. 

The  population  of  Scheveningen,  which  numbers 
only  a  few  thousands,  is  almost  entirely  composed  of 


THE  HAGUE.  217 

fishermen,  the  greater  number  of  whom  are  very  poor. 
The  village  is  still  one  of  the  principal  stations  of 
the  herring  fishery,  where  arc  cured  those  celebrated 
fish  to  which  Holland  owes  her  riches  and  power. 
But  the  profits  of  this  industry  go  to  the  captains  of 
the  fishing  vessels,  and  the  men  of  Scheveningen, 
who  are  employed  as  sailors,  hardly  earn  a  livelihood. 
On  the  beach,  in  front  of  the  village,  many  of  those 
wide  staunch  boats  with  a  single  mast  and  a  largo 
square  sail  may  always  be  seen  ranged  in  line  on  the 
sand  one  beside  the  other,  like  the  Greek  galleys  on 
the  coast  of  Troy  :  thus  they  are  safe  from  the  gusts 
of  wind.  The  flotilla,  accompanied  by  a  steam  sloop, 
starts  early  in  June,  directing  its  course  toward  the 
Scottish  coast.  The  first  herrings  taken  are  at  once 
sent  to  Holland,  and  conveyed  in  a  cart  ornamented 
with  flags  to  the  king,  who  in  exchange  for  this 
present  gives  five  hundred  florins.  These  boats 
make  catches  of  other  fish  as  well,  which  arc  in  part 
sold  at  auction  on  the  sea-shore,  and  in  part  are 
given  to  the  Scheveningen  fishermen,  who  send  their 
wives  to  sell  them  at  the  Hague  market. 

Scheveningen,  like  all  the  other  villages  of  the 
coast,  Katwijk,  Vlaardingen,  Maassluis,  is  a  village 
that  has  lost  its  former  prosperity  in  consequence  of 
the  decline  of  the  herring  fishery,  owing,  as  every 
one  knows,  to  the  competition  of  England  and  the 
disastrous  wars.  But  poverty,  instead  of  weakening 
the  character  of  this  small  population,  beyond  doubt 


218  THE  HAGUE. 

the  most  original  and  poetical  in  Holland,  has 
strengthened  it.  The  inhabitants  of  Scheveningen  in 
appearance,  character,  and  habits  seem  like  a  foreign 
tribe  in  comparison  with  the  people  of  their  own 
country.  They  dwell  but  two  miles  from  a  large 
city,  and  vet  preserve  the  manners  of  a  primitive 
people  that  has  always  lived  in  isolation.  As  they 
were  centuries  ago,  so  are  they  now.  No  one  leaves 
their  village,  and  no  one  who  is  not  a  native  ever 
enters  it :  they  intermarry,  they  speak  a  language  of 
their  own.  they  all  dress  in  the  same  style  and  in  the 
same  colors,  as  did  their  fathers'  fathers.  At  the 
time  of  the  fishing  only  the  women  and  children 
remain  in  the  village;  the  men  all  go  to  sea.  They 
carry  their  Bibles  with  them  on  their  departure.  On 
board  they  neither  drink  nor  swear  nor  laugh. 
When  the  stormy  seas  toss  their  little  boats  on  the 
crests  of  the  waves,  they  close  all  the  apertures  and 
await  death  with  resignation.  At  the  same  moment 
their  wives  are  singing  psalms,  shut  in  their  cottages 
rocked  by  the  wind  and  beaten  by  the  rain.  Those 
little  dwellings,  which  have  witnessed  so  many  mortal 
griefs,  which  have  heard  the  sobs  of  so  many  widows, 
which  have  seen  the  sacred  joys  of  happy  return  and 
the  disconsolate  departure  of  many  husbands,  with 
their  cleanliness,  their  white  curtains,  with  the  clothes 
and  shirts  of  the  sailors  hanging  at  the  windows, — 
tell  of  the  free  and  dignified  poverty  of  their  inmates. 
No  vagabonds  nor  fallen  women  come  out  of  these 


THE  HAGUE.  219 

lionies;  no  inhabitant  of  Scheveningon  has  ever  de- 
serted the  sea,  and  none  of  her  daughters  has  ever 
refused  the  hand  of  a  sailor.  Both  men  and  women 
show  by  their  carriage  and  the  expression  of  then- 
faces  a  serious  dignity  that  commands  respect. 
They  greet  you  without  bending  their  heads,  and 
look  you  in  the  face  as  much  as  to  say,  "We  have  no 
need  of  any  one." 

In  this  little  village  there  are  two  schools,  and  it 
is  a  curious  sight  to  see  a  swarm  of  fair-haired  children 
with  slates  under  their  arms  and  pencils  in  their 
hands  disperse  at  certain  hours  among  these  poverty- 
stricken  streets. 

Scheveningen  is  not  only  a  village  famous  for  the 
originality  of  its  inhabitants  which  all  foreigners 
visit  and  all  artists  paint.  There  are,  besides,  two 
great  bathing  establishments,  where  English,  Rus- 
sians, Germans,  and  Danes  meet  in  the  summer. 
The  flower  of  the  Northern  aristocracy,  princes  and 
ministers,  indeed  half  the  Almanach  de  Gotba,  come 
here;  then  there  are  balls,  fantastic  illuminations, 
and  fireworks  on  the  sea.  The  two  establishments 
are  placed  on  the  dunes,  and  at  all  hours  of  the  day 
certain  carriages  which  look  like  gypsy  caravans, 
drawn  by  strong  horses,  are  driven  from  the  shore 
into  the  sea,  where  they  turn  round.  Whereupon 
ladies  step  out  from  them  and  bathe  in  the  water, 
letting  their  fair  hair  blow  about  in  the  wind.  At 
night  the  band  plays,  the  visitors  walk   out.  and  the 


220  THE  HAGUE. 

beach  is  enlivened  by  an  elegant,  festive,  ever-chang- 
ing crowd,  in  which  every  language  is  heard  and  the 
beauty  of  every  country  is  represented.  A  few  steps 
distant  from  this  gayety  the  misanthrope  can  find 
solitude  and  seclusion  on  the  dunes,  where  the  music 
faintly  strikes  his  ear  like  a  far-off  echo,  and  the 
houses  of  the  fishermen  show  him  their  lights,  direct- 
ing  his  thoughts  to  domestic  life  and  peace. 

The  first  time  I  went  to  Scheveningen  I  took  a 
walk  on  those  dunes  which  have  been  so  often  painted 
by  artists,  the  only  heights  on  the  immense  Dutch 
plain  that  intercept  the  view — rebellious  children  of 
the  sea,  whose  progress  they  oppose,  being  at  the 
same  time  the  prisoners  and  the  guardsmen  of  Hol- 
land. There  are  three  tiers  of  these  dunes,  forming 
a  triple  bulwark  against  the  ocean  :  the  outer  is  the 
most  barren,  the  centre  the  highest,  and  the  inner 
the  most  cultivated.  The  medium  height  of  these 
mountains  of  sand  is  not  greater  than  fifteen  metres, 
and  all  together  they  do  not  extend  into  the  land  for 
more  titan  a  French  league.  But  as  there  are  no 
higher  elevations  near  or  remote,  they  produce  the 
false  impression  of  a  vast  mountainous  region.  The 
eye  sees  valleys,  gorges,  precipices,  views  that  appear 
distant  and  are  elose  at  hand — the  tops  of  neighboring 
dunes  on  which  we  imagine  a  man  ought  to  appear 
as  large  as  a  child,  and  on  which  instead  be  seems  a 
giant.  Viewed  from  a  height,  this  region  looks  like 
a  yellow  sea,  tempestuous  yet  motionless.     The  drear- 


THE   HAGUE.  221 

iness  of  this  desert  is  increased  by  a  wild  vegetation, 
which  seems  like  the  mourning  of  the  dead  and 
abandoned  nature — thin,  fragile  grass,  flowers  with 
almost  transparent  petals,  juniper,  sweet-broom,  rose- 
mary, through  which  every  now  and  then  skips  a 
rabbit.  Neither  house,  tree,  nor  human  being  is  to 
be  seen  for  miles.  Now  and  then  ravens,  curlews, 
and  sea-gulls  fly  past.  Their  cries  and  the  rustling 
of  the  shrubs  in  the  wind  are  the  only  sounds  that 
break  the  silence  of  the  solitude.  When  the  sky  is 
black  the  dead  color  of  the  earth  assumes  a  sinister 
hue,  like  the  fantastic  light  in  which  objects  appear 
when  seen  through  colored  glass.  It  is  then,  when 
standing  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  dunes,  that  one 
feels  a  sense  almost  of  fear,  as  if  one  were  in  an  un- 
known country  hopelessly  separated  from  any  inhab- 
ited land,  and  one  looks  anxiously  at  the  misty  horizon 
for  the  shadow  of  a  building  to  reassure  him. 

In  the  whole  of  my  walk  I  met  but  one  or  two 
peasants.  The  Dutch  peasants  usually  speak  to  the 
people  they  meet  on  the  road — a  rare  thing  in  a 
Northern  country.  Some  pull  off  their  caps  at  the 
side  with  a  curious  gesture,  as  if  they  did  it  for  a 
joke.  Usually  they  say  *•  Good-morning  "  or  "  Good- 
evening"  without  looking  at  the  person  they  are 
greeting.  If  they  meet  two  people,  they  say,  "Good- 
evening  to  vou  both,"  or  if  more  than  two,  "Good- 
evening  to  you  all."  On  a  pathway  in  the  middle  of 
the  first  dunes  I  saw  several   of  those  poor  fishermen 


222  THE  HAGUE. 

■who  spend  the  whole  day  up  to  their  waists  in  water, 
picking  up  the  shells  that  are  used  to  make  a  peculiar 
cement  or  to  spread  over  garden-paths  instead  of 
sand.  It  must  cost  them  at  least  half  an  hour  of 
hard  labor  to  take  off  the  enormous  leather  boots 
that  they  wear  to  go  into  the  sea;  this  would  give 
an  excuse  to  an  Italian  sailor  for  swearing  by  all  the 
saints.  But  these  men,  on  the  contrary,  perform  the 
task  with  a  composure  that  makes  one  sleepy,  without 
giving  way  to  any  movement  of  impatience,  nor 
would  they  raise  their  heads  until  they  had  finished 
even  if  a  cannon  were  to  be  fired  off. 

On  the  dunes,  near  a  stone  obelisk  recording  the 
return  of  William  of  Orange  from  England  after  the 
fall  of  the  French  dominion,  I  saw  for  the  first  time 
one  of  those  sunsets  which  awaken  in  us  Italians  a 
feeling  of  wonder  no  less  than  that  awakened  in 
people  from  the  North  by  the  sunsets  at  Naples  and 
Koine.  The  sun,  because  of  the  refraction  of  light 
by  the  mists  which  always  fill  the  air  in  Holland,  is 
greatly  magnified,  and  diffuses  through  the  clouds 
and  on  the  sea  a  veiled  and  tremulous  splendor  like 
the  reflection  of  a  great  fire.  It  seemed  as  if  another 
sun  had  unexpectedly  appeared  on  the  horizon,  and 
was  setting,  never  again  to  show  itself  on  earth.  A 
child  might  well  have  believed  the  words  of  a  poet 
who  said,  "  In  Holland  the  sun  dies,"  and  the  most 

cold-bl lo(l    man    must    have   allowed   a  farewell    to 

escape  his  lips. 


THE   HAGUE.  223 

As  I  have  spoken  of  my  walk  to  Schcveningcn,  I. 
will  mention  two  other  pleasant  excursions  that  I 
made  from  the  Hague  last  winter. 

The  first  was  to  the  village  of  Naaldwijk,  and  from 
this  village  to  the  sea-coast,  where  they  were  opening 
the  new  Rotterdam  canal.  At  Naaldwijk,  thanks  to 
the  politeness  of  an  inspector  of  schools  who  was 
with  me,  I  gratified  my  desire  to  see  an  elementary 
school,  and  I  will  state  at  once  that  my  great  expec- 
tations were  more  than  realized.  The  house,  built 
expressly  for  the  school,  was  a  separate  building  one 
story  in  height.  We  first  went  into  a  little  vestibule, 
where  there  were  a  number  of  wooden  shoes,  which 
the  inspector  told  me  belonged  to  the  pupils,  who 
place  them  there  on  their  entrance  into  school  and 
put  them  on  again  when  they  go  out.  In  school  the 
boys  wear  only  stockings  which  are  very  thick,  con- 
sequently their  feet  do  not  suffer  from  cold,  especially 
as  the  rooms  arc  as  hot  as  if  they  were  a  minister's 
cabinet.  On  our  entrance  the  pupils  stood  up  and 
the  master  advanced  toward  the  inspector.  Even 
that  poor  village  master  spoke  French,  and  so  we 
were  able  to  enter  into  conversation.  There  were  in 
the  school  about  forty  pupils,  both  bovs  and  girls, 
who  sat  on  opposite  sides  of  the  room  ;  all  were  fair 
and  fat,  with  plump,  good-natured  faces  ;  they  had 
the  precocious  air  of  little  men  and  women,  which  I 
could  not  observe  without  laughing.  The  building  was 
divided  into  five  rooms,  each  separated  from  the  other 


224  THE  HAGUE. 

by  a  large  glass  partition,  which  enclosed  all  the  space 
like  a  wall,  so  that  if  a  master  were  absent  from  one 
class  the  teacher  of  the  next  class  could  overlook 
the  pupils  of  his  colleague  without  leaving  his  post. 
All  the  rooms  are  large  and  have  high  windows 
which  reach  from  the  floor  to  the  ceiling,  so  that  it  is 
almost  as  light  inside  as  it  is  outside.  The  benches, 
walls,  floors,  windows,  and  stoves  were  as  clean  as  if 
they  had  been  in  a  ball-room.  Having  a  lively  re- 
collection of  certain  unpleasant  places  in  the  schools 
I  attended  as  a  boy,  I  asked  to  see  the  closets,  and 
found  them  such  as  few  of  the  best  hotels  can  boast. 
Afterward  on  the  school-room  walls  I  saw  a  great 
many  things  that  I  remember  to  have  wished  for 
when  I  sat  at  the  desks,  such  as  small  pictures  of 
landscapes  or  figures,  to  which  the  master  referred 
in  his  stories  and  instruction,  so  that  they  should 
be  stamped  the  better  on  the  memory ;  representa- 
tions of  common  objects  and  animals;  geographical 
maps  purposely  made  with  large  names  and  painted 
in  bright  colors ;  proverbs,  grammatical  rules,  and 
precepts  very  plainly  printed.  Only  one  thing  seemed 
to  me  lacking — personal  cleanliness. 

I  will  not  repeat  what  many  have  written  and  some 
Dutchmen  affirm,  that  in  Holland  cleanliness  of  the 
skin  is  generally  neglected — that  the  women  are  dirty, 
and  that  the  legs  of  the  tables  are  cleaner  than  those 
of  the  citizens.  But  it  is  certain  the  cleanliness  of 
inanimate  objects  is  infinitely  greater  than  personal 


THE  HAGUE.  225 

cleanliness,  and  the  deficiency  in  the  last  respect 
is  made  more  apparent  by  excellence  in  the  first. 
In  an  Italian  school  perhaps  those  boys  might  have 
seemed  clean,  but,  comparing  them  with  the  marvel- 
lous purity  of  their  surroundings,  and  reflecting  that 
they  were  the  children  of  the  very  women  who  take 
half  a  day  to  wash  the  doors  and  shutters,  they 
seemed  to  me,  and  in  fact  were,  rather  dirty.  In 
some  schools  in  Switzerland  there  are  lavatories 
where  the  boys  are  obliged  to  wash  upon  entering 
and  leaving  the  school.  I  should  have  been  pleased 
to  see  such  lavatories  in  the  Dutch  schools  too;  then 
all  would  have  been  perfect. 

I  said  "  that  poor  master,"  but  I  found  out  after- 
ward that  he  had  a  salary  of  more  than  two  thousand 
two  hundred  francs  and  an  apartment  in  a  nice  house 
in  the  village.  In  Holland  the  masters  of  elementary 
schools — the  principals,  that  is,  for  there  are  assistant 
masters — never  receive  less  than  eight  hundred  francs 
a  year.  This  the  minimum  that  the  commune  can 
legally  give.  No  commune  keeps  to  this  sum,  and 
some  masters  have  the  same  salaries  as  our  university 
professors.  It  is  true  that  it  costs  more  to  live  in 
Holland  than  in  Italy,  but  it  is  also  true  that  the 
salaries  which  seem  large  to  us  are  there  considered 
small,  and  yet  they  propose  to  increase  them.  It 
must  also  be  considered  that,  OAving  to  the  difference 
of  national  character,  the  Dutch  masters  are  not 
obliged   to   expend  as  much   of  their   breath,   their 


220  THE  HAGUE. 

patience,  and  good-humor  as  are  our  Italian  masters, 
which  is  a  consideration  if  it  be  true  that  health 
counts  for  something. 

From  Naaldwijk  we  went  toward  the  coast.  On 
the  road  my  courteous  companion  explained  to  me 
clearly  the  point  which  the  question  of  instruction 
has  reached  in  Holland.  In  Latin  countries  persons 
when  questioned  by  a  stranger  answer  him  with  a 
view  toward  airing  their  knowledge  and  showing  their 
conversational  powers.  In  Holland  they  try  rather 
to  make  you  understand  the  subject,  and  if  you  do 
not  comprehend  directly,  they  impress  it  upon  you 
until  it  is  fixed  in  your  mind  as  clearly  and  as  well 
as  it  is  in  their  own. 

The  question  of  instruction,  in  Holland  as  in  most 
countries,  is  a  religious  question,  which  in  its  turn  is 
the  most  serious,  indeed  the  only  great,  question  that 
now  agitates  the  country. 

Of  the  three  and  a  half  millions  of  inhabitants  in 
Holland,  a  third,  as  I  have  remarked,  are  Catholics, 
about  a  hundred  thousand  are  Jews,  and  the  rest  are 
Protestants.  The  Catholics,  who  chiefly  inhabit  the 
southern  provinces  of  Limbourg  and  Brabant,  are 
not  divided  politically  as  they  are  in  other  countries, 
but  form  one  solid  clerical  legion, — Papists,  Ultra- 
montanists,  the  most  faithful  legion  of  Rome,  as  the 
Dutch  themselves  say — who  buy  the  very  straw  that 
the  pontiff  is  supposed  to  sleep  on,  and  who  thunder 
Italy  from  the  pulpit  and  the  press.     This  Catholic 


THE   HAGUE.  227 

party,  which  would  have  no  great  strength  of  itself, 
gains  a  certain  advantage  from  the  fact  that  the 
Protestants  are  divided  into  a  great  many  religious 
sects.  There  are  orthodox  Calvinists ;  Protestants 
who  believe  in  the  revelation,  but  do  not  accept 
certain  doctrines  of  the  Church ;  others  who  deny 
the  divinity  of  Christ,  without,  however,  separating 
themselves  from  the  Protestant  Church;  others,  again, 
who  believe  in  God,  but  do  not  believe  in  any  Church; 
others — and  amongst  these  are  many  of  the  cleverest 
men — who  openly  profess  atheism.  In  consequence 
of  this  state  of  things,  the  Catholic  party  has  a  nat- 
ural ally  in  the  Calvinists,  who  as  fervent  believers 
and  inflexible  conservers  of  the  religion  of  their 
fathers,  are  much  less  widely  separated  from  the 
Catholics  than  from  a  large  party  of  those  of  their 
own  co-religionists.  These  form,  in  a  certain  sense, 
the  clerical  wing  of  Protestantism.  Hence  in  the 
Netherlands  there  are  Catholics  and  Calvinists  on 
one  side,  and  on  the  other  a  liberal  party,  while 
between  the  two  there  hovers  a  vacillating  legion 
that  does  not  allow  either  side  to  gain  an  absolute 
supremacy.  The  chief  point  of  contention  between 
the  extreme  sections  is  the  question  of  primary  in- 
struction, and  this  reduces  itself,  on  the  part  of  the 
Catholics  and  Calvinists,  to  insistence  that  so-called 
mixed  schools,  in  which  no  special  religious  instruc- 
tion is  given  (so  that  Catholics  and  Protestants  of  all 
doctrines  may  support  them),  shall  be  superseded  by 

Vol.  I.— 15 


228  THE  HAGUE. 

others  in  which  dogmatic  instruction  is  to  be  given, 
and  that  these  shall  be  also  supported  by  the  com- 
mune under  the  direction  of  the  state.  It  is  easy  to 
foresee  the  grave  consequences  that  such  a  division 
in  the  popular  educational  system  would  produce — 
the  germs  of  discord  and  religious  animosity  that 
would  be  sown,  the  trouble  that  would  in  time  arise 
from  separating  young  people  into  groups  professing 
different  faiths.  Up  to  the  present  time  the  prin- 
ciple of  mixed  schools  has  prevailed,  but  the  victories 
of  the  Liberals  have  been  costly.  The  Catholics 
and  the  Calvinists  successively  obtained  various  con- 
cessions, and  are  prepared  to  obtain  yet  others.  The 
Catholic  party  is,  in  a  word,  more  powerful  than  the 
Calvinist  party:  the  one,  united  and  aggressive, 
gains  ground  day  by  day,  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that 
it  will  succeed  in  gaining  a  victory  which,  though 
not  lasting,  will  provoke  a  violent  reaction  in  the 
country.  Things  have  come  to  such  a  pass  that  in 
that  very  Holland  which  fought  for  eighty  years 
against  Catholic  despotism  there  are  now  serious 
reasons  to  fear  the  outbreak  of  a  religious  war. 

Notwithstanding  this  state  of  things,  which  to  the 
present  time  has  prevented  the  institution  of  obliga- 
tory instruction  demanded  by  the  Liberals,  and  keeps 
a  great  number  of  Catholic  children  away  from  the 
schools,  the  education  of  the  lower  classes  in  Holland 
is  in  a  condition  that  any  European  state  might  envy. 
In  proportion,  Holland  contains  less  people  who  do 


jftsbcrman'8  GbilDren,  Scbeveninoen. 


the  iiague.  229 

not  know  their  alphabet  than  docs  Prussia.  "  Of 
all  Europe,"  as  a  Dutch  writer  has  said  with  just 
pride,  although  he  judges  his  country  severely  on 
other  points,  "  Holland  is  the  land  where  all  such 
knowledge  as  is  indispensable  to  civilized  man  is 
most  widely  diffused."  I  was  once  greatly  surprised, 
on  asking  a  Dutchman  if  there  were  any  women- 
servants  who  could  not  read,  to  hear  myself  answered, 
"  Well,  yes.  I  remember  twenty  years  ago  that  my 
mother  had  a  servant  who  did  not  know  her  alphabet, 
and  we  thought  it  a  very  strange  thing."  It  is  a 
great  satisfaction  to  a  stranger  who  docs  not  know 
the  language  to  be  sure  that  if  he  shows  a  name  on 
his  guide-book  to  the  first  street-urchin  he  meets,  the 
boy  will  understand  it  and  will  try  to  direct  him  by 
gestures. 

Talking  of  Catholics  and  Calvinists,  we  arrived  at 
the  dunes,  and,  although  we  were  near  the  coast,  we 
could  not  see  the  ocean.  "  Holland  is  a  strange 
country,"  I  said  to  my  friend,  "in  which  everything 
plays  at  hide  and  seek.  The  facades  hide  the  roofs, 
the  trees  hide  the  houses,  the  city  hides  the  ships, 
the  banks  hide  the  canals,  the  mist  hides  the  fields, 
the  dunes  hide  the  sea."  "And  some  day,"  answered 
my  friend,  "  the  sea  will  hide  everything  and  all  will 
be  ended." 

We  crossed  the  downs  and  advanced  toward  the 
coast,  where  the  preparatory  works  for  the  opening 
of  the  Rotterdam  Canal  were  in  progress. 


230  THE  HAGUE. 

Two  dykes,  one  more  than  a  thousand  two  hundred 
meters  in  length,  the  other  more  than  two  thousand 
meters  long,  separated  from  each  other  by  the 
space  of  a  kilometer,  project  into  the  sea  at  right 
angles  to  the  coast.  These  two  dykes,  which  are 
built  to  protect  vessels  entering  the  canal,  are  formed 
by  several  rows  of  enormous  palisades  made  of  huge 
blocks  of  granite,  of  fagots,  stones,  and  earth ; 
they  are  as  wide  as  ten  men  drawn  up  in  a  line. 
The  ocean,  which  continually  washes  against  them, 
and  at  high  tide  overflows  them  in  many  parts,  has 
covered  everything, — stones,  beams,  and  fagots,  with 
a  stratum  of  shells  as  black  as  ebony,  which  from  a 
distance  seems  like  a  velvet  coverlet,  giving  to  these 
two  gigantic  bulwarks  a  severe  and  magnificent  ap- 
pearance, as  if  they  were  a  warlike  banner  unfolded  by 
Holland  to  celebrate  her  victory  over  the  waves.  At 
that  moment  the  tide  was  coming  in,  and  the  battle 
round  the  extreme  end  of  the  dykes  was  at  its  height. 
With  what  rage  did  the  livid  waves  avenge  themselves 
for  the  scorn  of  those  two  huge  horns  of  granite  that 
Holland  has  plunged  into  the  bosom  of  her  enemy! 
The  palisades  and  the  rock  foundations  were  lashed, 
gnawed,  and  buffeted  on  every  side;  disdainful  waters 
dashed  over  them  and  spat  upon  them  with  a  drizzling 
rain  that  hid  them  like  a  cloud  of  dust ;  then  again  the 
waves  would  flow  back  like  furious  writhing  serpents. 
Even  the  sections  far  from  the  struggle  were  sprinkled 
by  unexpected  showers  of  spray,  the  advance  guard 


THE   HAGUE.  231 

of  that  endless  army,  and  meanwhile  the  water  kept 
rising  and  advancing,  forcing  the  foremost  workmen 
to  retire  step  by  step. 

On  the  longest  dyke,  not  very  far  from  shore,  they 
were  planting  some  piles.  Workmen  with  great 
labor  were  raising  blocks  of  granite  by  means  of 
derricks,  and  others,  in  groups  of  ten  or  fifteen, 
were  removing  old  beams  to  make  room  for  new  ones. 
It  was  glorious  to  see  the  fury  of  the  waves  lashing 
the  sides  of  the  dyke,  and  the  impassive  calm  of  the 
workmen,  who  seemed  almost  to  despise  the  sea.  It 
crossed  my  mind  that  they  must  be  saying  in  their 
hearts,  as  the  sailor  said  to  the  monster  of  the  Com- 
prachicos  in  Victor  Hugo's  romance:  "Roar  on,  old 
fellow  !"  A  wind  which  chilled  us  to  the  bone  blew 
the  long,  fair  curls  of  the  good  Dutchmen  into  their 
eyes,  and  every  now  and  then  threw  the  spray  at 
their  feet  or  on  their  clothes — vain  provocations  to 
which  they  did  not  deign  to  reply  even  by  a  frown. 

I  saw  a  pile  driven  into  the  dyke.  It  was  the 
trunk  of  a  great  tree  pointed  at  one  end  and  sup- 
ported by  two  parallel  beams,  between  which  a  steam- 
engine  drove  an  enormous  iron  hammer  up  and  down. 
The  pile  had  to  be  driven  through  several  very  thick 
strata  of  fagots  and  stones;  yet  at  every  blow  from 
the  heavy  hammer  it  sunk  into  the  ground,  breaking, 
tearing,  and  splintering,  while  it  entered  the  dyke 
more  than  a  hand's  length,  as  if  it  were  merely  a 
mud  hole.      Nevertheless,    what   with   adjusting   and 


232  THE  HAGUE. 

driving  the  pile,  the  operation  lasted  almost  an  hour. 
I  thought  of  the  thousands  that  had  been  driven,  of 
the  thousands  still  to  be  driven,  of  the  interminable 
dykes  that  defend  Holland,  of  the  infinite  number 
that  have  been  overturned  and  rebuilt,  and  for  the 
first  time  my  mind  conceived  the  grandeur  of  the 
undertaking,  and  a  feeling  of  dismay  crept  over  me 
as  I  stood  motionless  and  speechless. 

Meanwhile,  the  waters  had  risen  almost  to  the 
level  of  the  dyke,  with  a  sound  of  panting  and 
breathlessness  like  tired-out  voices  that  seemed  to 
murmur  secrets  of  distant  seas  and  unknown  shores; 
the  wind  blew  colder,  it  was  growing  dark,  and  I 
felt  a  restless  desire  to  withdraw  from  those  front 
bastions  into  the  interior  of  the  fortress.  I  pulled 
the  coat-tail  of  my  companion,  who  had  been  standing 
for  an  hour  en  a  boulder,  and  we  returned  to  the 
shore  and  drank  a  glass  of  delicious  Schiedam  at  one 
of  those  shops  which  are  called  in  Dutch  "  Come  and 
a.s7r,"  where  they  sell  wines,  salt  meats,  cigars,  shoes, 
butter,  clothes,  biscuits — in  fact,  a  little  of  every- 
thing. Then  we  started  on  the  road  back  to  the 
Hague. 

My  next  excursion  was  the  most  adventurous  that 
I  made  in  Holland.  A  very  dear  friend  of  mine 
who  lived  at  the  Hague  invited  me  to  go  and  dine 
with  him  at  the  house  of  one  of  his  relatives  who 
had  shown  a  courteous  desire  to  make  my  acquaint- 
ance.    I  asked  where  his  relative  lived,  and  he  an- 


THE  HAGUE.  233 

swered,  "Far  from  the  Hague."  I  asked  in  -what 
direction,  but  he  would  not  tell  me;  lie  told  me  to  meet 
him  at  the  railway-station  the  next  day,  and  left  me. 
On  the  next  morning  we  met  at  the  station:  my 
friend  bought  tickets  for  Leyden.  When  we  arrived 
at  Leyden  Ave  alighted,"  but,  instead  of  entering  the 
town,  we  took  a  road  across  country.  I  besought 
my  companion  to  reveal  the  secret  to  me.  He  an- 
swered that  he  could  not  do  so,  and  as  I  knew  that 
when  a  Dutchman  does  not  mean  to  tell  you  any- 
thing, no  power  on  earth  will  make  him  do  it,  I 
resigned  myself.  It  Avas  a  disagreeable  day  in  Feb- 
ruary ;  there  was  no  snow,  but  a  strong  cold  wind 
was  blowing  which  soon  made  our  faces  purple.  As 
it  was  Sunday,  the  country  was  deserted.  We  went 
on  and  on,  passing  windmills,  canals,  meadows, 
houses  half  hidden  by  trees,  with  very  high  roofs  of 
stubble  mixed  with  moss.  Finally  we  arrived  at  a 
village.  The  Dutch  villages  are  closed  by  a  palisade: 
Ave  passed  through  the  gate,  but  not  a  living  soul 
Avas  to  be  seen  ;  the  doors  Avere  shut,  the  AvindoAV 
curtains  Avere  drawn,  and  not  a  voice,  nor  a  foot- 
step, nor  a  breath  Avas  heard.  We  crossed  the 
village,  and  paused  in  front  of  a  church  which  Avas 
all  covered  Avith  ivy  like  a  summer-house ;  look- 
ing through  an  aperture  in  the  door,  avc  saAv  a 
Protestant  clergyman  Avith  a  Avhitc  cravat  preach- 
ing to  sonic  peasants  Avhose  faces  were  striped 
with  gold,   green,   and  purple,    the  reflection  of  the 


234  THE  HAGUE. 

stained-glass  windows.     We  passed  through  a  clean 
street  paved  with  bricks,  and  saw  stakes  put  for  the 
storks'  nests,   posts  planted  by  the  peasants  for  the 
cows  to  rub  against,  fences  painted  sky  blue,  small 
houses  with  many-colored   tiles  forming   letters  and 
words,    ponds    full     of    boats,     bridges,     kiosks    for 
unknown    uses,    little    churches    with    great    gilded 
cocks  on   the  top  of  their  steeples ;  and  not  a  living 
soul  near  or  far :  still  we  went  on.     The  sky  cleared 
a  little,    then    darkened    again;    here    the    sunshine 
gleamed  on  a  canal,  there  it  made  a  house  sparkle 
or  gilded  a  distant  steeple.     Then  again  it  hid  itself, 
reappeared,  and   so   on  with  a  thousand  coquetries, 
while  on  the  horizon   there  appeared  oblique  lines 
denoting  rain.      We  began   to  meet  countrywomen 
with   circles   of   gold   round    their  heads,    on   which 
veils  were  fastened,  the  whole  surmounted  by  hats ; 
these  were  trimmed  with  bunches  of  flowers  and  wide 
fluttering  ribbons.     We  also  met  some  country  car- 
riages of  the  antique  Louis  XV.  style,  with  a  gilded 
box    ornamented    Avith     carved    work    and    mirrors, 
peasants  with   thick  black  clothes  and  large  wooden 
shoes,  children  with  stockings  of  every  color  in  the 
rainbow.     We  arrived  at   another  village,  which  was 
clean,  shining,  and  bri^htlv  colored,  with  its  streets 
paved   with    bricks    and    its   windows    adorned   with 
curtains  and  flowers.     Here  we  took  a  carriage  and 
went  on  our  way.     A  fine  icy  rain  which  penetrated 
to  our  bones  becran  to  fall  as  soon  as  we  started.     Muf- 


THE   HAGUE.  235 

lied  up  in  the  wet  frozen  covers,  we  readied  the  bank 
of  a  large  canal.  A  man  came  out  of  a  cottage,  led 
the  horse  on  to  a  barge,  and  landed  us  safe  and  sound 
on  the  opposite  bank.  The  carriage  turned  down  a 
wide  street,  and  we  found  ourselves  on  the  bed  of 
the  ancient  Sea  of  Haarlem.  Our  horse  trotted 
along  where  the  fish  once  swam  through  the  water: 
our  coachman  smoked  where  at  one  time  the  smoke 
of  naval  battles  had  rolled ;  we  saw  glimpses  of 
canals,  of  villages,  of  cultivated  fields,  of  a  new- 
world  of  which  only  thirty  years  ago  there  had  not 
been  a  trace.  After  we  had  driven  about  a  mile 
the  rain  stopped,  and  it  began  to  snow  as  I  had  never 
seen  it  snow  before:  it  was  a  real  whirlwind  of  heavy, 
thick  snow,  which  the  strong  wind  blew  into  our 
faces.  We  unfolded  the  waterproof  covering,  opened 
our  umbrellas,  tucked  ourselves  in,  and  bundled  our- 
selves up,  but  the  wind  broke  through  all  our  defences 
and  the  snow  sifted  over  us,  enveloping  us  in  white 
and  covering  our  heads  and  feet  with  ice.  After  a  long 
turn  we  left  the  lake ;  the  snow  ceased,  we  arrived 
at  another  village  of  toy  houses,  where  we  left  our 
carriage  and  proceeded  on  foot.  We  went  on  and 
on,  seeing  bridges,  windmills,  closed  cottages,  lonely 
streets,  Avide  meadows,  but  no  human  beings.  We 
crossed  another  branch  of  the  Rhine,  and  arrived  at 
another  village  barricaded  and  silent ;  we  continued 
on  our  way,  occasionally  seeing  some  face  looking  at 
us  from  behind  the  windows.     We  then  left  the  vil- 


236  THE  HAGUE. 

lage  and  found  ourselves  opposite  the  dunes.  The 
sky  looked  threatening,  and  I  became  alarmed. 

"Where  are  we  going?"  I  demanded  of  my  friend. 

"  Where  fortune  takes  us,"  he  replied. 

We  proceeded  through  the  dunes,  along  narrow, 
winding,  sandy  roads,  seeing  no  sign  of  habitation 
anywhere ;  we  went  up  hill  and  down  dale ;  the  wind 
drove  the  sand  into  our  faces  ;  at  every  step  our  feet 
sank  in  it,  and  the  country  grew  more  and  more 
desolate,  gloomy,  and  foreboding. 

"  But  who  is  your  relative?"  I  said  to  my  com- 
panion. "Where  does  he  live?  what  is  his  business? 
There  is  some  witchcraft  about  this ;  he  cannot  be  a 
man  like  other  men :  tell  me  where  you  are  leading 
me." 

My  friend  did  not  answer:  he  stopped  and  stared 
in  front  of  him.  I  stared  too,  and  far  away  saw 
something  that  looked  like  a  house,  alone  in  the 
midst  of  the  desert,  almost  hidden  by  a  rise  in  the 
ground.  We  hastened  on ;  the  house  seemed  to  ap- 
pear and  disappear  like  a  shadow.  Round  about  we 
saw  stakes  which  looked  like  gibbets.  My  friend 
tried  to  persuade  me  that  they  were  only  stakes  for 
storks'  nests.  We  were  about  a  hundred  feet  away 
from  the  house.  Along  a  wall  we  saw  a  wooden  pipe 
which  seemed  bathed  in  blood,  but  my  friend  assured 
me  it  was  only  red  paint.  It  was  a  little  house  en- 
closed by  a  paling  ;  the  doors  and  windows  were  shut. 

••Don't   go    in,"   I  said.      "There   is   yet   time. 


THE  HAGUE.  237 

There  is  something  uncanny  in  that  house;  take 
care  what  yon  are  doing.  Look  up;  I  have  never 
seen  such  a  black  sky." 

My  friend  did  not  hear  me;  he  pressed  on  cour- 
ageously, and  I  followed.  Instead  of  going  toward 
the  door,  he  took  a  short  cut.  Behind  us  we  heard 
a  ferocious  barking  of  dogs.  We  broke  into  a  run, 
crossed  a  thicket  of  underbrush,  jumped  over  a  low 
Avail,  and  knocked  at  a  little  door. 

"  There  is  yet  time  !"  I  exclaimed. 

"It  is  too  late,"  answered  my  friend. 

The  door  opened,  but  nobody  was  to  be  seen.  We 
mounted  a  winding  staircase  and  entered  a  room. 
Oh  pleasant  surprise!  The  hermit,  the  sorcerer,  was 
a  merry,  courteous  young  man,  and  the  diabolical 
house  was  a  villa  full  of  comfort  and  warmth,  spark- 
ling with  light,  the  dwelling  of  a  sybarite — a  real 
fairy  palace  to  which  our  host  retired  some  months 
in  the  year  to  study  and  to  make  experiments  on  the 
fertilization  of  the  dunes.  How  delightful  it  was  to 
look  at  the  cold  desert  without  through  a  window 
draped  with  curtains  and  decorated  with  flower-pots! 
We  went  into  the  dining-room  and  sat  down  at  a 
table  glittering  with  silver  and,  glass,  in  the  midst  of 
which,  surrounded  by  gilded  and  blazoned  bottles, 
was  a  hot  dinner  fit  for  a  prince.  The  snow  was 
beating  against  the  windows,  the  sea  was  moaning, 
the  wind  blew  furiously  round  the  house,  which 
seemed  like  a  ship  in  a  terrible  storm.     We  drank 


238  THE  HAGUE. 

to  the  fertilization  of  the  dunes,  to  the  victors  of 
Achen,  to  the  prosperity  of  the  colonies,  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Nino  Bixio,  to  the  elves.  Nevertheless,  I  "was 
still  a  little  uneasy.  Our  host  when  he  needed  the 
servant  touched  a  hidden  spring;  to  tell  the  coach- 
man to  get  the  carriage  ready  he  spoke  some  words 
into  a  hole  in  the  wall ;  and  these  tricks  did  not 
please  me. 

"  Tell  me,"  I  said,  "  tell  me  that  this  house  really 
exists;  promise  me  that  it  is  not  .all  a  joke  and  that 
it  will  not  disappear,  leaving  nothing  but  a  hole  in 
the  ground  and  a  smell  of  sulphur  in  the  air.  Assure 
me  that  you  say  your  prayers  every  evening." 

I  cannot  describe  the  laughter,  the  merriment,  the 
absurd  speeches  that  succeeded  each  other  until  the 
middle  of  the  night,  accompanied  by  the  clinking  of 
glasses  and  the  roaring  of  the  tempest.  At  last  the 
moment  of  departure  arrived :  we  went  down  and 
were  rolled  away  in  a  roomy  carriage  which  dashed 
rapidly  across  the  desert.  The  ground  was  covered 
with  snoAv,  the  dunes  were  outlined  in  white  on  the 
dark  skv,  the  carriage  glided  noiselesslv  in  the  midst 
of  strange  indistinct  forms,  -which  succeeded  each 
other  rapidly  in  the  light  of  the  lantern  and  seemed 
to  melt  into  each  other.  In  that  vast  solitude  a  dead 
silence  reigned  which  robbed  us  of  speech.  After  a 
time  we  began  to  see  dwellings  and  arrived  at  a  vil- 
lage.  We  crossed  two  or  three  deserted  streets,  with 
snow-covered  houses  on  either  side,  with  a  few  lighted 


THE   HAGUE.  239 

windows  showing  human  shadows.  At  last  we  came 
to  a  railway-station,  and  reached  the  Hague  in  a  few 
minutes,  although  we  had  been  deluded  to  think  we 
had  taken  a  long  journey  and  crossed  an  imaginary 
country.  Must  I  tell  the  truth  ?  If  I  were  asked 
to  swear  at  the  moment  I  am  writing  that  the  house 
in  the  midst  of  the  dunes  was  a  reality,  I  should 
request  ten  minutes  for  reflection.  It  is  true  that 
the  master  was  polite  enough  to  come  and  hid  me 
good-bye  at  the  station  the  day  I  left  the  Hague,  and 
that  when  I  saw  him  clearly  by  daylight  he  did  not 
seem  to  have  anything  strange  about  him  ;  but  we 
all  know  the  various  forms,  the  simulations,  the 
thousand  arts  which  a  certain  gentleman  and  his 
servants  assume. 

At  last  I  saw  a  Dutch  winter,  not  as  I  had  hoped 
to  see  it  on  leaving  Italy,  for  it  was  very  mild;  but 
still  Holland  was  presented  to  me  as  we  are  in  the 
habit  of  picturing  it  to  ourselves  in  the  south  of 
Europe. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  first  thing  that  attracts 
the  eye  in  the  silent  white  streets  is  the  print  of  in- 
numerable wooden  shoes  left  in  the  snow  by  the  boys 
on  their  way  to  school,  and  so  large  are  the  wooden 
shoes  that  they  look  like  the  tracks  of  elephants. 
These  footsteps  generally  go  in  a  straight  line,  show- 
ing that  the  boys  take  the  shortest  cut  to  school,  and, 
like  steady,  zealous  Dutchmen,  do  not  play  and  lose 
time  on  the  road.      One  can  see  long  rows  of  children 


240  THE  HAGUE. 

wrapped  up  in  large  scarfs,  with  their  heads  half 
hidden  between  their  shoulders — little  bundles  arm 
in  arm,  walking  two  by  two,  or  three  by  three,  or 
pressed  together  in  groups  like  a  bunch  of  asparagus, 
out  of  which  peep  only  the  tips  of  their  noses  and 
the  ends  of  books.  When  the  boys  have  disappeared 
the  streets  are  deserted  for  a  short  time,  for  the 
Dutch  do  not  rise  early,  especially  in  the  winter. 
One  can  walk  some  distance  without  meeting  any  one 
or  hearing  any  sound.  The  snow  seems  whiter  sur- 
rounding those  rose-colored  houses,  which  have  all 
their  projections  outlined  with  a  pure  white  line,  and 
the  wooden  heads  outside  of  the  shops  wear  Avhite  cot- 
ton wigs;  the  chains  of  the  railings  look  like  ermine; 
everything  presents  a  strange  appearance.  When  it 
freezes  and  the  sun  shines,  the  facades  seem  covered 
with  silver  sparks,  the  ice  heaped  upon  the  banks  of 
the  canals  shines  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow, 
and  the  trees  glitter  with  thousands  of  little  pearls, 
like  the  plants  in  the  enchanted  gardens  of  the  Ara- 
bian Nights.  It  is  then  that  it  is  beautiful  to  walk 
in  the  forest  at  the  Hague  at  sunset,  treading  on  the 
hardened  snow,  which  crackles  under  one's  feet  like 
powdered  marble,  in  the  avenues  of  large,  white, 
leafless  beech  trees,  which  look  like  one  gigantic 
crystallization,  and  cast  blue  and  violet  shadows, 
dotted  with  myriads  of  points  which  glisten  like 
diamonds  in  the  paths  dyed  pink  by  the  setting  sun. 
But  nothing  compares  with   the  sight  of  the   Dutch 


THE   HAGUE.  241 

country  seen  from  the  top  of  a  steeple  at  morning 
after  :i  heavy  fall  of  snow.  Beneath  the  gray  and 
lowering  sky  one  looks  over  that  vast  white  plain, 
from  which,  roads,  houses,  and  canals  have  disap- 
peared, and  nothing  is  seen  but  elevations  and  de- 
pressions, which,  like  the  folds  of  a  sheet,  give  a 
vague  idea  of  the  forms  of  hidden  houses.  The 
boundless  white  is  unstained  save  by  the  clouds  of 
smoke  that  rise  almost  timidly  from  the  distant  dwell- 
ings, as  if  to  assure  the  spectator  that  beneath  the 
desert  of  snow  human  hearts  arc  still  beating. 

It  is  impossible  to  speak  of  the  winter  in  Holland 
without  mentioning  what  constitutes  the  originality 
and  the  attraction  of  winter  life  in  that  country — 
the  skating. 

Skating  in  Holland  is  not  only  a  recreation ;  it  is 
the  ordinary  means  of  transportation.  To  cite  a 
well-known  example,  all  know  the  value  of  it  to  the 
Dutch  in  the  memorable  defence  of  Haarlem.  When 
there  is  a  hard  frost  the  canals  arc  transformed  into 
streets,  and  sabots  tipped  with  iron  take  the  place  of 
boats.  The  peasants  skate  to  market,  the  workmen 
to  their  work,  the  small  tradespeople  to  their  busi- 
ness ;  entire  families  skate  from  the  country  to  the 
town  with  their  bags  and  baskets  on  their  shoulders 
or  drive  in  sledges.  Skating  to  them  is  as  habitual 
and  easy  as  walking,  and  they  skim  along  so  rapidly 
that  one  can  scarcely  follow  them  with  the  eye.  In 
past  years  bets   were   commonly  made   between   the 


242  THE  HAGUE. 

best  Dutch  skaters  that  they  would  skate  down  the 
canals  on  either  side  of  the  railway  as  fast  as  the 
train  could  go ;  and  usually  the  skaters  not  only  kept 
abreast  of  the  engine,  but  even  beat  it.  There  are 
people  who  skate  from  the  Hague  to  Amsterdam  and 
back  again  on  the  same  day  ;  university  students 
leave  Utrecht  in  the  morning,  dine  at  Amsterdam, 
and  return  home  before  the  evening  :  and  a  bet  has 
been  made  and  won  several  times  of  going  from 
Amsterdam  to  Leyden  in  little  more  than  an  hour. 
Persons  who  have  been  drawn  by  sticks  held  by 
skaters  have  told  me  that  the  speed  with  which  they 
skim  over  the  ice  is  enough  to  turn  one  giddy  ;  but 
this  rapidity  is  not  the  only  remarkable  thing  about 
it :  another  point  very  much  to  be  admired  is  the  se- 
curity with  which  they  traverse  great  distances. 
Peasants  will  go  from  one  town  to  another  at  night. 
Youn<;  men  go  from  Rotterdam  to  Gouda,  where 
they  buy  very  long  clay  pipes,  and  return  to  Rotter- 
dam carrying  them  unbroken  in  their  hands.  Some- 
times as  one  is  walking  along  a  canal  one  sees  a  figure 
flit  by  like  an  arrow,  to  disappear  immediately  in  the 
distance.  It  is  a  peasant-girl  carrying  milk  to  a 
house  in  the  city. 

There  are  sledges  of  every  size  and  shape,  some 
pushed  by  skaters,  others  drawn  by  horses,  others 
propelled  by  means  of  two  iron-tipped  sticks  which 
are  worked  by  the  person  seated  in  the  sledge.  One 
sees   carts   and   carriages   taken    off   of   their   wheels 


THE   HAGUE.  2  Jo 

and  mounted  on  two  boards,  on  which  they  glide 
wilh  tlio  same  rapidity  as  the  other  sleds.  On  holi- 
day occasions  the  boats  from  Scheveningen  have  been 
seen  to  glide  over  the  snow  through  the  streets  of 
the  Hague.  Sometimes  ships  in  full  sail  are  seen 
skimming  over  the  ice  of  the  large  rivers,  going  so 
fast  that  the  faces  of  the  few  who  dare  to  make  this 
experiment  arc  terribly  cut  by  the  wind. 

The  most  beautiful  fetes  in  Holland  are  given  on 
the  ice.  When  the  Mouse  is  frozen,  Rotterdam  be- 
comes a  place  of  reunions  and  amusements.  The 
snow  is  brushed  away  until  the  ice  is  made  as  clean 
as  a  crystal  floor;  restaurants,  coffee-houses,  pavilions, 
and  benches  for  spectators  arc  set  up,  and  at  night 
all  is  illuminated.  During  the  day  a  swarm  of  skaters 
of  every  age,  sex,  and  class  crowds  the  river.  In 
other  towns,  especially  in  Friesland,  which  is  the 
classical  land  of  the  art,  there  are  clubs  of  men-  and 
women-skaters  who  institute  public  races  for  prizes. 
Stakes  and  flags  are  set  up  all  along  the  canals,  rail- 
ings and  stands  are  raised;  immense  crowds  come 
from  the  villages  and  the  country-side.  Bands  play; 
the  elite  of  the  town  are  present.  The  skaters 
present  themselves  dressed  in  a  peculiar  costume, 
the  women  wearing  pantaloons.  There  are  races  for 
men  and  races  for  women;  then  both  men  and  women 
race  together.  The  names  of  the  winners  are  en- 
rolled in  the  annals  of  the  art  and  remain  famous 
for  many  years. 

Vul.  I.— 16 


244  THE  HAGUE. 

In  Holland  there  are  two  different  schools  of  skat- 
ing, the  so-called  Dutch  school  and  the  Frieslander 
school,  each  of  which  uses  a  peculiar  kind  of  skate. 
The  Frieslander  school,  which  is  the  older,  aims  only 
at  speed  ;  the  Dutch  school  cultivates  grace  as  well. 
The  Frieslanders  are  stiff  in  their  motions;  they 
throw  their  bodies  forward,  and  hold  themselves  very 
straight,  looking  as  though  they  were  starched,  and 
keeping  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  goal.  The  Dutch  skate 
with  a  zigzag  movement,  swaying  from  left  to  right 
and  from  right  to  left  with  an  undulating  motion  of 
the  body.  The  Frieslander  is  an  arrow,  the  Dutch- 
man a  rocket. 

The  women  prefer  the  Dutch  school.  The  ladies 
of  Rotterdam,  Amsterdam,  and  the  Hague  are,  in 
fact,  the  most  fascinating  skaters  in  the  Netherlands. 
They  begin  to  skate  as  children,  continue  as  girls 
and  wives,  reaching  the  height  of  beauty  and  the 
summit  of  art  at  the  same  time,  while  their  skates 
strike  out  sparks  from  the  ice  which  kindle  many 
fires.  It  is  only  on  the  ice  that  Dutch  women  appear 
light-heeled.  Some  attain  a  marvellous  perfection. 
Those  who  have  seen  them  say  that  it  is  impossible 
to  imagine  the  grace  of  movement,  the  bows,  the 
glides,  the  thousand  pretty  delicate  arts  that  are 
displayed.  They  fly  and  return  like  swallows  and 
butterflies,  and  in  this  exercise  they  grow  animated 
and  their  placid  beauty  is  transformed.  But  all  are 
not  so  skilled  :  many  dare  not  show  themselves  in 


THK  HAGUE.  245 

public,  for  those  who  would  he  considered  prodigies 
with  us  are  scarcely  noticed  there,  to  such  perfection 
has  the  art  been  carried.  The  men,  too,  perform  all 
kinds  of  tricks  and  feats,  sonic  writing  words  of  love 
and  fantastic  figures  in  their  twills,  others  making 
rapid  pirouettes,  then  gliding  backward  on  one  leg 
for  a  long  distance;  others  twist  about,  making  num- 
bers of  dizzy  turns  in  a  small  space,  sometimes  bend- 
ing down,  then  leaning  to  one  side,  then  skating 
upright  or  crouching  like  india-rubber  figures  moved 
by  a  secret  spring. 

The  first  day  that  the  canals  and  small  docks  arc 
covered  with  ice  strong  enough  to  bear  the  skaters  is 
a  day  of  rejoicing  in  the  Dutch  towns.  Skaters  who 
have  made  the  experiment  at  break  of  day  spread 
the  news  abroad;  the  papers  announce  it;  groups  of 
boys  about  the  streets  burst  into  shouts  of  delight; 
men  and  women-servants  ask  permission  to  go  out 
with  the  determined  air  of  people  who  have  decided 
to  rebel  if  refused;  obi  ladies  forget  their  age  and 
ailments  and  hurry  oft'  to  the  canal  to  emulate  their 
friends  and  daughters.  At  the  Hague  the  basin, 
which  is  in  the  middle  of  the  city,  near  to  the  Bin- 
nenliof,  is  invaded  by  a  mingling  crowd  of  people, 
who  interlace,  knock  against  each  other,  and  form  a 
confused  giddy  mass.  The  flower  of  the  aristocracy 
skates  on  a  pond  in  the  middle  of  the  wood,  and 
there  in  the  snow  may  be  seen  a  winding  and  whirl- 
ing  maze  of   officers,   ladies,   deputies,   students,   old 


24G  THE  HAGUE. 

men,  and  boys,  among  whom  the  crown  prince  is 
sometimes  to  be  seen.  Thousands  of  spectators  crowd 
around  the  scene,  music  enlivens  the  festival,  and  the 
enormous  disk  of  the  Dutch  sun  at  sunset  sends  its 
dazzling  salutation  through  the  gigantic  beech  trees. 
When  the  snow  is  packed  hard  the  turn  of  the  sleigh 
comes.  Every  family  has  a  sleigh,  and  at  the  hour 
the  world  goes  out  walking  they  appear  by  hundreds. 
They  fly  past  in  long  rows  two  or  three  abreast. 
Some  are  shaped  like  shells,  others  like  swans, 
dragons,  boats,  or  chariots.  All  are  gilded  and 
painted  in  various  colors ;  the  horses  which  draw 
them  are  covered  with  handsome  furs  and  magnificent 
trappings,  their  heads  ornamented  with  plumes  and 
tassels,  and  their  harness  studded  with  glittering 
buttons.  In  the  sleighs  sit  ladies  clothed  in  sable, 
beaver,  and  blue  fox.  The  horses  toss  their  heads, 
enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  steam  which  rises  from  them, 
while  their  manes  are  covered  with  ice-drops.  The 
sleighs  dart  along,  the  snow  flying  about  them  like 
silver  foam.  The  splendid  uncurbed  procession 
passes  and  disappears  like  a  silent  whirlwind  over 
a  field  of  lilies  and  jessamine.  At  night,  when  the 
torches  are  lit,  thousands  of  small  flames  follow 
each  other  and  flit  about  the  silent  toAvn,  casting  lurid 
flashes  of  light  on  the  ice  and  snow,  the  whole  scene 
appearing  to  the  imagination  like  a  great  diabolical 
battle  over  which  the  spectre  of  Philip  II.  presides 
from  the  top  of  the  Hinnenhof  Tower. 


/Cain  JDrive  in  tbe  JSoscb,  TEoc  t>aoue. 


THE   HAGUE.  247 

But,  alas!  everything  changes,  even  the  winter, 
and  with  it  the  art  of  skating  and  the  use  of  sleighs. 
For  many  years  the  severe  winters  of  Holland  have 
been  followed  by  such  mild  ones  that  not  only  the 
large  rivers,  but  even  the  small  canals  in  the  towns, 
do  not  freeze.  In  consequence  the  skaters  who  have 
been  so  long  out  of  practice  do  not  risk  giving  public 
exhibitions  when  the  occasion  presents  itself;  and  so, 
little  by  little,  their  number  becomes  smaller,  and 
the  women  especially  are  forgetting  the  art.  Last 
winter  they  hardly  skated  at  all,  and  this  winter 
(1873)  there  has  not  been  a  race,  and  not  even  a 
sleigh  has  been  seen.  Let  us  hope  that  this  deplor- 
able state  of  affairs  will  not  last,  and  that  winter 
will  return  to  caress  Holland  with  its  icy  bear's 
paw,  and  that  the  fine  art  of  skating  will  once  more 
arise  with  its  mantle  of  snow  and  its  crown  of  ieiclcs. 
Let  me  announce  meanwhile  the  publication  of  a 
work  called  "Skating,"  upon  which  a  Dutch  legisla- 
tor has  been  employed  for  many  years — a  work  that 
will  be  the  history,  the  epic,  and  code  of  this  art, 
from  which  all  European  skaters,  male  and  female, 
will  be  able  to  draw  instruction  and  inspiration. 

While  T  remained  at  the  Hague  I  frequented  the 
principal  club  in  the  town,  composed  of  more  than 
two  thousand  members.  It  is  located  in  a  palace 
near  the  Binnenhof,  and  there  it  was  that  I  made  my 
observations  upon  the  Dutch  character. 

The  library,  the  dining-room,  and  the  card-room, 


248  THE  HAGUE. 

the  largo  drawing-room  for  conversation,  and  the 
reading-room  were  as  full  as  they  could  be  from  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  until  midnight.  Here  one 
met  artists,  professors,  merchants,  deputies,  clerks, 
and  officers.  The  greater  number  come  to  drink  a 
small  glass  of  gin  before  dinner,  and  return  later  to 
take  another  comforting  sip  of  their  favorite  liquor. 
Nearly  all  converse,  and  yet  one  hears  only  a  light 
murmur,  so  that  if  one's  eyes  were  shut  one  would  say 
that  about  half  of  the  actual  number  was  present. 
One  can  go  round  the  rooms  many  times  without 
seeing  a  gesture  of  excitement  or  hearing  a  loud 
voice :  at  a  distance  of  ten  steps  from  the  groups  one 
would  not  know  that  any  one  was  speaking,  except  by 
the  movement  of  his  lips.  One  sees  many  corpulent 
gentlemen  with  broad,  clean-shaven  faces  and  bearded 
throats,  who  talk  without  raising  their  eyes  from  the 
table  or  lifting  their  hands  from  their  glasses.  It  is 
very  rare  to  see  among  these  heavy  faces  a  lively, 
piquant  physiognomy  like  that  of  Erasmus,  which 
many  consider  the  true  Dutch  type,  though  I  am  not 
of  their  opinion. 

The  friend  who  opened  the  door  of  the  club  to  me 
presented  me  to  several  of  its  habitues.  The  differ- 
ence between  the  Dutch  and  the  Italian  character  is 
especially  evident  in  introductions.  On  one  occasion 
1  noticed  that  the  person  to  whom  I  was  introduced 
scarcely  bowed  his  head,  and  then  remained  silent 
some  moments.      I  thought  mv  reverend  face  had  not 


THE  HAGUE.  249 

pleased  him,   and  felt   an  echo  of  cordial  dislike  in 
my  heart.     In  a  little  -while  the  person  who  had  in- 
troduced me  went  away,  leaving  me  tete-a-tete  with 
my  enemy.      "Now,"  thought  I,  "  I  will  hurst  before 
I   will   speak   a   word    to   him."       But   my   neighbor, 
after   some  minutes  of  silence,   said   to  me  with  the 
greatest    gravity,    "  I   hope,    if   you    have    no    other 
engagement  to-day,  }-ou  will  do  me  the  honor  of  din- 
ing  with   me."      I   fell  from    the   clouds.     We  then 
dined  together,   and   my  Amphytrion  placidly  filled 
the  table  with  bottles  of  Bordeaux   and   champagne, 
and  did   not  let  me  depart  until  I  had  promised  to 
dine  with   him   again.       Others,   when   I  would   ask 
information   about  various   things,  would   hardly  an- 
swer me,  as  if  they  were  trying  to  show  me  that  I  was 
troublesome,  so   that  I   would  say   to   myself,  "  ITowr 
contemptible   they  are !"       But    the   next   day   they 
would  send  me  all  the  details  neatly  and  clearly  writ- 
ten out,  and  minute  in  a  higher  degree  than  I  desired. 
One  evening  I  asked  a  gentleman  to  point   out  to  me 
something  in   that  ocean    of  figures   that  goes  by  the 
n;i mo  of   Gui'le  to    European   Railways.     For   some 
moments    he    did    not   answer,    and   T   felt   mortified. 
Then  ho  took  the  book,  put  on  his  spectacles,  turned 
over    the    leaves,    read,    took    notes,   added   and   sub- 
tracted for  half  an   hour,  and   when   he   had   finished 
he   gave   me   the    written   answer,    putting   his   spec- 
tacles    back     into     their     case    without     speaking    a 
word. 


250  THE  HAGUE. 

Many  of  those  with  whom  I  passed  the  evening 
used  to  go  home  at  ten  o'clock  to  work,  and  to  return 
to  the  club  at  half-past  eleven,  after  which  they  would 
remain  until  one  o'clock.  When  they  had  said,  "  I 
must  go,"  there  was  no  possibility  of  changing  their 
minds.  As  the  clock  struck  ten  they  left  the  door; 
at  half-past  eleven  they  stepped  over  the  threshold. 
It  is  not  surprising  that  with  this  chronometrical  pre- 
cision they  find  time  to  do  so  many  things,  without 
doing  anything  in  haste ;  even  those  who  do  not 
depend  on  their  studies  for  their  livelihood  have 
read  entire  libraries.  There  is  no  English,  German, 
or  French  book,  however  unimportant,  with  which 
they  are  unacquainted.  French  literature  especially 
they  have  at  their  fingers'  ends.  And  what  is  said 
of  literature  can  be  said  with  more  reason  of  politics. 
Holland  is  one  of  the  European  countries  in  which 
the  greatest  number  of  foreign  papers  are  to  be 
found,  particularly  those  that  deal  principally  with 
national  affairs.  The  country  is  small  and  peaceftd, 
and  the  news  of  the  day  is  soon  exhausted;  conse- 
quently it  frequently  happens  that  after  ten  minutes 
the  conversation  has  passed  beyond  the  Rhine  and 
deals  with  Europe.  I  remember  the  astonishment 
with  which  I  heard  the  fall  of  the  ministry  of  Scialoia 
and  other  Italian  matters  discussed  as  if  they  were 
domestic  affairs. 

One  of  my  first  cares  was  to  sound  the  religious 
sentiment   of  the  people,   and   here  I  found,   to  my 


THE  HAGUE.  'iol 

surprise,  great  confusion.  As  a  learned  Dutchman 
most  justly  wrote  a  short  time  ago,  ''Ideas  subversive 
of  every  religious  dogma  have  made  much  way  in 
this  land."  It  is  quite  a  mistake,  however,  to  be- 
lieve that  where  faith  decreases  indifference  enters. 
Such  men  as  appeared  to  Pascal  monstrous  creatures 
— men  who  live  without  giving  any  thought  to  re- 
ligion, of  whom  there  are  numbers  in  our  country — 
do  not  exist  in  Holland.  The  religious  question, 
which  in  Italy  is  merely  a  question,  in  Holland  is  a 
battle  in  which  all  brandish  their  arms.  In  every 
class  of  society,  men  and  women,  young  and  old, 
occupy  themselves  with  theology  and  read  or  listen 
to  the  disputes  of  the  doctors,  besides  devouring  a 
prodigious  number  of  polemical  writings  on  religion. 
This  tendency  of  the  country  is  shown  even  in  Par- 
liament, where  the  deputies  often  confute  their  op- 
ponents with  biblical  quotations  read  in  Hebrew,  or 
translated  and  commentated,  the  discussion  degener- 
ating into  very  disquisitions  on  theology.  All  these 
conflicts,  however,  take  place  in  the  mind  rather 
than  in  the  heart ;  they  are  devoid  of  passion,  and 
one  proof  of  this  is  that  Holland,  which  of  all  the 
countries  in  Europe  is  divided  into  most  sects,  is  also 
the  country  in  which  these  sects  live  in  the  greatest 
harmony  and  where  there  is  the  greatest  degree  of 
tolerance.  If  this  were  not  the  case,  the  Catholic 
party  would  not  have  made  such  strides  as  it  has 
made,  protected  from  the  first  by  the  Liberals  against 


252  THE  HAGUE. 

the  only  intolerant  party  in  the  country,  the  orthodox 
Calvinists. 

I  did  not  make  the  acquaintance  of  any  Calvinists, 
and  I  was  sorry  on  that  account.  I  never  believed 
all  that  is  recounted  of  their  extreme  rigour ;  for 
example,  that  there  are  among  them  certain  ladies 
who  hide  the  lee:s  of  the  tables  with  covers,  for  fear 
that  they  might  suggest  to  the  minds  of  visitors  the 
legs  of  the  mistress  of  the  house.  But  there  is  no 
doubt  that  they  live  with  extreme  austerity.  Many 
of  them  never  enter  a  theatre,  a  ball-room,  or  a  con- 
cert-hall. There  are  families  who  on  the  Sabbath 
content  themselves  with  eating  a  little  cold  meat,  so 
that  the  cook  may  rest  on  that  day.  Every  morning 
in  many  houses  the  master  reads  from  the  Bible  in 
the  presence  of  the  family  and  servants,  and  they  all 
pray  together.  But,  nevertheless,  this  sect  of  ortho- 
dox Calvinists,  whose  followers  are  almost  all  amongst 
the  aristocracy  and  the  peasantry,  does  not  exert  a 
great  influence  in  the  country.  This  is  proved  by 
the  fact  that  in  Parliament  the  Calvinists  are  inferior 
in  numbers  to  the  Catholic  party  and  can  do  nothing 
without  them. 

I  have  mentioned  the  theatre.  At  the  Hague,  as 
in  the  other  large  Dutch  eities,  there  are  no  large 
theatres  nor  great  performances.  They  generally 
produce  German  operas  sung  by  foreign  singers,  and 
French  comedies  and  operettas.  Concerts  are  the  great 
attraction.      In   this   Holland   is  faithful  to  its  tradi- 


TIIK   HAGUE. 


tions,  for,  as  is  well  known,  Dutch  musicians  were 
sought  after  in  all  the  Christian  courts  as  early  as  the 
sixteenth  century.  It  has  also  been  said  that  the  Dutch 
have  great  ability  in  singing  in  chorus.  In  fact,  the 
pleasure  of  singing  together  must  be  great  if  it  is  in 
proportion  to  the  aversion  they  have  to  singing  alone, 
for  I  do  not  ever  remember  hearing  any  one  sing  a 
tune  at  any  hour  or  in  any  part  of  a  Dutch  town, 
excepting  street  urchins,  who  were  singing  in  derision 
at  drunken  men,  and  drunkards  are  seldom  seen  ex- 
cepting on  public  holidays. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  French  operettas  and  come- 
dies. At  the  Hague  not  only  the  plays  are  French, 
but  public  life  as  well.  Rotterdam  has  an  English 
imprint,  Amsterdam  is  German,  and  the  Hague  Paris- 
ian. So  it  may  truthfully  be  said  that  the  citizens 
of  the  large  Dutch  towns  unite  and  temper  the  good 
qualities  and  the  defects  of  the  three  great  neighbor- 
ing nations.  At  the  Hague  in  many  families  of  the 
best  society  they  speak  French  altogether;  in  others 
they  affect  French  expressions,  as  is  done  in  some  of 
the  northern  towns  of  Italy.  Addresses  on  letters 
are  generally  written  in  French,  and  there  is  a  small 
branch  of  society,  as  is  frequently  the  case  in  small 
countries,  that  professes  a  certain  contempt  for  the 
national  language,  literature,  and  art.  and  courts  an 
adopted  country  beyond  the  Mense  and  the  Rhine. 
The  sympathies,  however,  are  divided.  The  elegant 
class  inclines  toward  France,  the  learned  class  toward 


254  THE  HAGUE. 

Germany,  and  the  mercantile  class  toward  England. 
The  zeal  for  France  grew  cold  after  the  Commune. 
Against  Germany  a  secret  animosity  has  arisen,  gen- 
erated by  the  fear  that  in  her  acquisitive  tastes  she 
might  turn  toward  Holland.  This  feeling  still  fer- 
ments, though  it  is  tempered  by  community  of  in- 
terest against  clerical  Catholicism. 

When  it  is  said  that  the  Hague  is  partly  a  French 
city,  it  must  be  understood  that  this  relates  to  its 
appearance  only;  at  bottom  the  Dutch  characteristics 
predominate.  Although  it  is  a  rich,  elegant,  and 
gay  city,  it  is  not  a  city  of  riot  and  dissipation,  full 
of  duels  and  scandals.  The  life  is  more  varied  and 
lively  than  that  found  in  other  Dutch  towns,  but  not 
less  peaceful.  The  duels  that  take  place  in  the 
Hague  in  ten  years  may  be  counted  on  the  five  fin- 
gers of  one's  hand,  and  the  aggressor  in  the  few  that 
take  place  is  usually  an  officer.  Notwithstanding, 
to  show  how  powerful  in  Holland  is  this  ''ferocious 
prejudice  that  honor  dwells  on  the  point  of  the 
sword,"  I  recall  a  discussion  between  several  Dutch- 
men which  was  raised  by  a  question  of  mine.  When 
I  asked  whether  public  opinion  in  Holland  was  hos- 
tile to  duels,  they  answered  all  together,  ''Exceed- 
ingly hostile."  But  when  I  wanted  to  know  whether 
;i  young  man  in  good  society  who  did  not  accept  a 
challenge  would  be  universally  praised,  and  would 
still  be  treated  and  respected  as  before — whether,  in 
short,   he  would  be  supported   by  public  opinion  so 


T1IK   HAGUE.  2~>~> 

that  lie  would  not  repent  his  ('undue; — then  they  ;ill 
began  discussing.  Some  weakly  answered,  "Yes:" 
others  resolutely,  "No."  But  the  general  opinion 
was  on  the  negative  side.  Hence  I  concluded  that 
although  there  are  few  duels  in  Holland,  this  does 
not  arise,  as  I  thought,  from  a  universal  and  absolute 
contempt  for  the  "ferocious  prejudice,"  but  rather 
from  the  rarity  of  the  cases  in  which  two  citizens 
allow  themselves  to  be  carried  by  passion  to  the  point 
of  having  recourse  to  arms;  which  is  a  result  of 
nature  rather  than  of  education.  In  public  contro- 
versies and  private  discussions,  however  violent,  per- 
sonal insults  are  very  rare,  and  in  parliamentary 
battles,  which  arc  sometimes  very  vigorous,  the 
deputies  are  often  exceedingly  impertinent,  but  they 
always  speak  calmly  and  without  clamor.  But  this 
impertinence  consists  in  the  fact  rather  than  in  the 
word,  and  wounds  in  silence. 

In  the  conversations  at  the  club  I  Avas  astonished 
at  first  to  note  that  no  one  spoke  for  the  pleasure  of 
speaking.  When  any  one  opened  his  mouth  it  was 
to  ask  a  question  or  to  tell  a  piece  of  news  or  to 
make  an  observation.  That  art  of  making  a  period 
of  every  idea,  a  story  of  every  fact,  a  question  of 
every  trifle,  in  which  Italians,  French,  and  Spaniards 
arc  masters,  is  here  totally  unknown.  Dutch  con- 
versation is  not  an  exchange  of  sounds,  but  a  com- 
merce of  facts,  and  nobody  makes  the  least  effort  to 
appear  learned    eloquent,  or  witty.     In  all  the  time 


256  THE  HAGUE. 

I  Avas  at  the  Hague  I  remember  hearing  only  one 
witticism,  ami  that  from  a  deputy,  who  speaking  to 
me  of  the  alliance  of  the  ancient  Batavians  with  the 
Romans,  said,  "We  have  always  been  the  friends  of 
constituted  authority."  Yet  the  Dutch  language 
lends  itself  to  puns:  in  proof  of  this  there  is  the 
incident  of  a  pretty  foreign  lady  who  asked  a  young 
boatman  of  the  trekschuit  for  a  cushion,  and  not  pro- 
nouncing the  word  well,  instead  of  cushion  said  kiss, 
which  in  Dutch  sounds  almost  the  same ;  and  she 
scarcely  had  time  to  explain  the  mistake,  for  the 
boatman  had  already  wiped  his  mouth  with  the 
back  of  his  hand.  I  had  read  that  the  Dutch  are 
avaricious  and  selfish,  and  that  they  have  a  habit  of 
boring  people  with  long  accounts  of  their  ailments, 
but  as  I  studied  the  Dutch  character  I  came  to  sec 
that  these  charges  are  untrue.  On  the  contrary, 
they  laugh  at  the  Germans  for  their  complaining 
disposition.  To  sustain  the  charge  of  avarice  some- 
body has  brought  forward  the  very  incredible  state- 
ment that  during  a  naval  battle  with  the  English  the 
officers  of  the  Dutch  fleet  boarded  the  vessels  of  the 
enemy,  who  had  used  all  their  ammunition,  sold  them 
balls  and  powder  at  exorbitant  prices,  after  which 
they  continued  the  battle.  But  to  contradict  this 
accusation  there  is  the  fact  of  their  comfortable  life, 
of  their  rich  houses,  of  the  large  sums  of  money 
spent  in  books  and  pictures,  and  still  more  of  the  wide- 
spread works  of  charity,  in  which  the  Dutch  people 


THE   HAGUE.  257 

certainly  stand  first  in  Europe.  These  philanthropic 
works  are  not  official  nor  do  they  receive  any  impulse 
from  the  government;  they  are  spontaneous  and  volun- 
tary, and  are  carried  on  by  large  and  powerful  socie- 
ties that  have  founded  innumerable  institutes — schools, 
prizes,  libraries,  popular  reunions — helping  and  an- 
ticipating the  government  in  the  duty  of  public  in- 
struction,— whose  branches  extend  from  the  large 
cities  to  the  humblest  villages,  embracing  every  re- 
ligious sect,  every  age,  every  profession,  and  every 
need ;  in  short,  a  beneficence  'which  docs  not  leave 
in  Holland  a  poor  person  without  a  roof  or  a  workman 
without  work.  All  writers  who  have  studied  Holland 
agree  in  saying  that  there  probably  is  not  another 
state  in  Europe  where,  in  proportion  to  the  popu- 
lation, a  larger  amount  is  given  in  charity  by  the 
wealthy  classes  to  those  who  are  in   want. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  imagined  that  the  Dutch 
people  have  no  defects.  They  certainly  have  them, 
if  one  may  consider  as  defects  the  lack  of  those 
qualities  which  ought  to  be  the  splendor  and  nobility 
of  their  virtues.  In  their  firmness  we  might  find 
some  obstinacy,  in  their  honesty  a  certain  sordidness  ; 
we  might  hold  that  their  coldness  shows  the  absence 
of  that  spontaneity  of  feeling  without  which  it  seems 
impossible  that  there  can  be  affection,  generosity,  and 
true  greatness  of  soul.  But  the  better  one  knows 
them,  the  more  one  hesitates  to  pronounce  these 
judgments,  and   the  more  one  feels  for  them  a  grow- 


258  THE  HAGUE. 

ing  respect  and  sympathy  on  leaving  Holland.  Vol- 
taire was  able  to  speak  the  famous  words :  "Adieu, 
canaux,  canards,  canaille;"  but  when  he  had  to 
judge  Holland  seriously,  he  remembered  that  he  had 
not  found  in  its  capital  "  an  idle  person,  a  poor,  dissi- 
pated, or  insolent  man,"  and  that  he  had  everywhere 
seen  "  industry  and  modesty."  Louis  Napoleon  pro- 
claimed that  in  no  other  European  country  is  there 
found  so  much  innate  good  sense,  justice,  and  reason 
as  there  is  in  Holland  ;  Descartes  gave  the  Holland- 
ers the  greatest  praise  a  philosopher  can  give  to  a 
people  when  he  said  that  in  no  country  does  one 
enjoy  greater  liberty  than  in  Holland;  Charles  V. 
pronounced  upon  them  the  highest  eulogy  possible  to 
a  sovereign  when  he  said  that  they  were  "excellent 
subjects,  but  the  worst  of  slaves."  An  Englishman 
wrote  that  the  Dutch  inspire  an  esteem  that  never 
becomes  affection.  Perhaps  he  did  not  esteem  them 
highly  enough. 

I  do  not  conceal  the  fact  that  one  of  my  reasons 
for  liking  them  was  the  discovery  that  Italy  is  much 
better  known  in  Holland  than  I  should  have  da  rod 
to  hope.  Not  only  did  our  revolution  find  a  favorable 
echo  there,  as  was  natural  in  a  independent  nation 
free  and  hostile  to  the  pope,  but  the  Italian  leaders 
and  the  events  of  recent  times  are  as  familiarly 
known  as  those  of  France  and  Germany.  The  best 
newspapers  have  Italian  correspondents  and  furnish 
the  public   with   the  minutest  details  of  our  affairs. 


THE   1 1  AG  UK.  239 

In  many  places  portraits  of  our  most  illustrious  citi- 
zens are  seen.     Acquaintance  with   our  literature  is 
no   less   extended    than    knowledge    of   our    politics. 
Putting  aside   the  fact   that  the  Italian  language  was 
sung  in  the   halls  of  the  ancient  counts  of  Holland, 
that   in   the  golden   age   of  Dutch   literature   it  was 
greatly  honored   by  men  of  letters,  and  that  several 
of   the  most   illustrious  poets   of   that   period   wrote 
Italian  verses  or  imitated   our   pastoral  poetry, — the 
Italian   language  is  considerably  studied   nowadays, 
and  one  frequently  meets  those  who  speak   it,  and  it 
is  common  to  see  our  books  on  ladies'   tables.      The 
"  Divina  Commedia,"   which   came  into  vogue  espe- 
cially   after    1830,    has    been    twice    translated    into 
rhymed  triplets.      One   version  is  the  work   of  a  cer- 
tain Hacko  van  Mijndcn,  who  devoted  all  his  life  to 
the  study  of  Dante.      "  Gerusalemme  Liberata  "  has 
been  translated  in   verse  by  a  Protestant  clergyman 
called    Ten    Kate,    and    there    was    another   version, 
unpublished  and  now  lost,  by  Maria  Tesseeschade,  the 
great  poetess  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  intimate 
friend  of  the  great   Dutch   poet  Yondel,  who  advised 
and  helped  her  in  the  translation.     Of  the  "Pastor 
Fido  "  there  are  at  least  five  translations  by  different 
hands.      Of  "  Aminta"  there  are  several  translations, 
and,  to  make  a  leap,  at  least  four  of  "Mie  Prigioni," 
besides    a   very    fine    translation    of    the    "  Promessi 
Sposi,"  a  novel  that  few  Dutch   people  have  not  read 
cither  in  their  own  language,  in  French,  or  in  Italian. 

Vol.  I. — 1  7 


2G0  THE  HAGUE. 

To  cite  another  interesting  fact,  there  is  a  poem  en- 
titled "Florence,"  written  for  the  last  centenary  of 
Dante  by  one  of  the  best  Dutch  poets  of  our  day. 

It  is  now  in  place  to  say  something  about  Dutch 
literature. 

Holland  presents  a  singular  disproportion  between 
the  expansive  force  of  its  political,  scientific,  and 
commercial  life  and  that  of  its  literary  life.  While 
the  work  of  the  Dutch  in  every  other  field  extends 
beyond  the  frontier  of  the  land,  its  literature  is  con- 
fined within  its  own  borders.  It  is  especially  strange 
that,  although  Holland  possesses  a  most  abundant 
literature,  it  has  not,  as  other  little  states,  produced 
one  book  that  has  become  European,  unless  we  class 
among  literary  works  the  writings  of  Spinoza,  the 
only  great  philosopher  of  his  country,  or  consider  as 
Dutch  literature  the  forgotten  Latin  treatises  of 
Erasmus  of  Rotterdam.  Yet  if  there  be  a  country 
which  by  its  nature  and  history  suggests  subjects  to 
inspire  the  mind  to  the  production  of  such  poetical 
works  as  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  all  nations,  that 
country  is  Holland.  The  marvellous  transformations 
of  the  land,  the  terrible  inundations,  the  fabulous 
maritime  expeditions, — these  ought  to  have  given 
birth  to  a  poem  powerful  and  original  even  when 
stripped  of  its  native  form.  Why  did  not  this  occur? 
The  nature  of  the  Dutch  genius  may  be  adduced  as 
a  reason,  which,  aiming  at  utility  in  everything, 
wished    to    turn    literature    also   to  a    practical    end. 


THE   HAGUE.  261 

Another  tendency,  t lie  opposite  of  this,  though 
perhaps  derived  from  it,  is  that  of  soaring  high 
above  human  nature  to  avoid  treading  on  the  ground 
with  the  mass;  a  weariness  of  genius  which  gave  to 
judgment  the  ascendency  over  the  imagination  ;  an 
innate  love  of  all  that  was  precise  and  finished, 
which  resulted  in  a  prolixity  in  which  grand  ideas 
were  diluted;  the  spirit  of  the  religious  sects,  which 
enchained  within  a  narrow  circle  talents  created  to 
survey  a  vast  horizon.  But  neither  these  nor  other 
reasons  can  keep  one  from  wondering  that  there 
should  not  be  one  writer  of  Dutch  literature  who 
worthily  represents  to  the  world  the  greatness  of  his 
country — a  name  to  be  placed  between  Rembrandt 
and  Spinoza. 

However,  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  overlook  at 
least  the  three  principal  figures  of  Dutch  literature, 
two  of  whom  belong  to  the  seventeenth  and  one  to 
the  nineteenth  century — three  original  poets  who 
differ  widely  from  each  other,  but  represent  in  them- 
selves Dutch  poetry  in  its  entirety:  Vondel,  Catz, 
and  Bilderdijk. 

Vondel,  the  greatest  poet  Holland  has  produced, 
was  born  in  1587  at  Cologne,  where  his  father,  a  hat- 
maker,  had  Taken  refuge,  having  fled  from  Antwerp 
to  escape  from  the  Spanish  persecutions.  While  still 
a  child  the  future  poet  returned  to  his  country  on  a 
barrow,  together  with  his  father  and  mother,  who 
followed    him    on   foot,  praying    and    reciting   verses 


262  THE  HAGUE. 

from  the  Bible.  His  studies  began  at  Amsterdam. 
At  fifteen  years  of  age  he  was  already  renowned  as 
a  poet,  but  his  celebrated  works  date  from  1620.  At 
the  age  of  thirty  he  knew  only  his  own  language, 
but  later  he  learned  French  and  Latin,  and  applied 
himself  with  ardor  to  the  study  of  the  classics;  at 
fifty  he  gave  himself  up  to  Greek.  His  first  tragedy 
(for  he  was  chiefly  a  dramatist),  entitled  "  The  De- 
struction of  Jerusalem,"  Avas  not  very  successful. 
The  second,  "Palamades,"  in  which  was  delineated 
the  piteous  and  terrible  tale  of  Olden  Barneveldt,  a 
victim  of  Maurice  of  Orange,  caused  a  criminal 
action  to  be  brought  against  the  author.  He  fled, 
and  remained  in  concealment  until  the  unexpectedly 
mild  sentence  was  given  which  condemned  him  to  a 
fine  of  three  hundred  florins.  In  1627  he  travelled 
in  Denmark  and  Sweden,  where  he  was  received 
with  great  honors  by  Gustavus  Adolphus.  Eleven 
years  later  he  opened  the  theatre  at  Amsterdam  with 
a  drama  on  a  national  theme,  "  Gilbert  of  Amstel," 
which  is  still  performed  once  a  year  in  his  memory. 
The  last  years  of  his  life  were  very  unhappy.  His 
dissipated  son  reduced  him  to  poverty,  and  the 
poor  old  man,  tired  of  study  and  broken  down 
with  sorrow,  was  obliged  to  beg  for  a  miserable  em- 
ployment at  the  city  pawnbroker's.  A  few  years 
before  his  death  he  embraced  the  Catholic  faith,  and, 
seized  with  fresh  inspiration,  composed  the  tragedy 
of  "  The  Virgin"  and  one  of  his  best  poems  entitled 


Ube  Vyvev,  Zbe  tmoue. 


THE   HACLE.  203 

"The  Mysteries  of  the  Altar."  He  died  at  a  great 
age,  and  was  buried  in  a  church  at  Amsterdam, 
where  a  century  afterward  a  monument  was  erected  in 
his  honor.  Besides  tragedies  he  wrote  martial  songs 
to  his  country,  to  illustrious  Dutch  sailors,  and  to 
Prince  Frederick  Henry.  But  his  chief  glory  was 
the  drama.  An  admirer  of  Greek  tragedy,  he 
preserved  the  unities,  the  chorus,  the  supernatural, 
substituting  Providence  for  Destiny,  and  demons  and 
angels  (the  good  and  evil  spirits  of  Christianity)  for 
the  angry  and  propitious  gods.  He  drew  nearly  all 
his  subjects  from  the  Bible.  His  finest  work  is  the 
tragedy  of  "Lucifer,"  which,  notwithstanding  the 
almost  insuperable  difficulties  of  stage  setting,  was 
represented  twice  at  the  theatre  in  Amsterdam,  after 
which  it  was  interdicted  by  the  Protestant  clergy. 
The  subject  of  the  drama  is  the  rebellion  of  Lucifer,  and 
the  characters  are  the  good  and  bad  angels.  In  this 
as  in  his  other  plays  there  abound  fantastic  descrip- 
tions full  of  splendid  imagery,  passages  of  powerful 
eloquence,  fine  choruses,  vigorous  thought,  solemn 
phrases,  rich  and  sonorous  verse,  while  here  and 
there  are  gleams  and  flashes  of  genius.  On  the 
other  hand,  his  work  is  pervaded  by  a  mysticism 
which  is  sometimes  obscure  and  austere,  by  a  discord 
between  Christian  ideas  and  pagan  forms.  The  lyri- 
cal clement  predominates  over  the  dramatic,  good 
taste  is  often  offended,  and,  above  all,  the  thought 
and  feeling,   though  aiming  at  the  sublime,   rise  too 


264  THE  HAGUE. 

high  above  this  earth,  and  elude  the  comprehension 
of  the  human  heart  and  mind.  Nevertheless,  his- 
torical precedence,  originality,  ardent  patriotism,  and 
a  noble  and  patient  life  have  made  Vondel  a  great 
and  venerated  name  in  his  country,  where  he  is  re- 
garded as  the  personification  of  national  genius,  and 
is  placed  in  the  enthusiasm  of  affection  next  to  the 
first  poets  of  other  lands. 

Vondel  is  the  greatest,  Jacob  Catz  is  the  truest, 
personification  of  Dutch  genius.  He  is  not  only  the 
most  popular  poet  of  his  nation,  but  his  popularity 
is  such  that  it  may  be  affirmed  that  there  is  no  other 
writer  of  any  land,  not  excluding  even  Cervantes  in 
Spain  and  Manzoni  in  Italy,  who  is  more  generally 
known  and  more  constantly  read,  while  at  the  same 
time  there  is  perhaps  no  other  poet  in  the  world 
whose  popularity  is  more  necessarily  limited  to  the 
boundaries  of  his  own  country.  Jacob  Catz  was 
born  in  1577  of  a  noble  family  in  Brouwershaven,  a 
town  of  Zealand.  He  studied  law,  became  pension- 
ary of  Middelburg,  went  as  ambassador  to  England, 
was  Grand  Pensionary  of  Holland,  and,  while  he 
performed  the  duties  of  these  offices  with  zeal  and 
rectitude,  he  devotedly  cultivated  poetry.  In  the 
evening,  after  he  had  transacted  affairs  of  state  with 
the  deputies  of  the  provinces,  he  would  retire  to  his 
home  to  write  verses.  At  seventy-five  years  of  age 
he  asked  to  be  released  from  further  service,  and 
when    the    stadtholder    told    him    with    appreciative 


THE   HAGUE.  2G5 

words  that  his  request  had  been  granted,  he  fell  on 
his  knees  in  the  presence  of  the  Assembly  of  the 
States  and  thanked  God,  who  had  always  protected 
him  during  the  course  of  his  long  ami  exacting 
political  life.  A  few  days  later  he  retired  to  one 
of  his  villas,  where  he  enjoyed  a  peaceful  and  hon- 
orable old  age,  studying  and  writing  up  to  the  year 
1GG0,  when  he  died,  in  the  eighty-first  year  of  his 
life,  mourned  by  all  Holland.  His  poems  fill  several 
large  volumes,  and  consist  of  fables,  madrigals, 
stories  from  history  and  mythology,  abounding  in 
descriptions,  ([notations,  sentences,  and  precepts. 
His  work  is  pervaded  with  goodness,  honesty,  and 
sweetness,  and  he  writes  with  frank  simplicity  and 
delicate  humor.  His  volume  is  the  book  of  national 
wisdom,  the  second  Bible  of  the  Dutch  nation — a 
manual  which  teaches  how  to  live  honestly  and  in 
peace.  He  has  a  word  for  all — for  boys  as  well  as 
old  men,  for  merchants  as  well  as  princes,  for  mis- 
tresses as  well  as  for  maids,  for  the  rich  as  well  as  for 
the  poor.  He  teaches  how  to  spend,  to  save,  to  do 
housework,  to  govern  a  family,  and  to  educate  chil- 
dren. He  is  at  the  same  time  a  friend,  a  father,  a 
spiritual  director,  a  master,  an  economist,  a  doctor, 
and  a  lawyer.  He  loves  modest  nature,  the  gardens, 
the  meadows;  he  adores  his  wife,  does  his  work,  and 
is  satisfied  with  himself  and  with  other  people,  and 
would  like  every  one  to  be  as  contented  as  he  is. 
His    poems    are    to    be    found    beside    the    Bible    in 


266  THE  HAGUE. 

every  Dutch  house.  There  is  not  a  peasant's  cottage 
where  the  head  of  the  family  does  not  read  some  of 
his  verses  every  evening.  In  days  of  sadness  and 
doubt  all  look  for  comfort  and  find  it  in  their  old 
poet.  He  is  the  intimate  fireside  friend,  the  faithful 
companion  of  the  invalid;  his  is  the  first  book  over 
which  the  faces  of  affianced  lovers  bend  ;  his  verses 
are  the  first  that  children  lisp  and  the  last  that  grand- 
sires  repeat.  No  poet  is  so  loved  as  he.  Every 
Dutchman  smiles  when  he  hears  his  name  spoken, 
and  no  foreigner  who  has  been  in  Holland  can  help 
naming  it  with  a  feeling  of  sympathy  and  respect. 

The  last  of  the  three,  Bilderdijk,  was  born  in  1756 
and  died  in  1831 :  his  was  one  of  the  most  marvellous 
intellects  that  have  ever  appeared  in  this  world.  He 
was  a  poet,  historian,  philologist,  astronomer,  chem- 
ist, doctor,  theologian,  antiquary,  jurisconsult,  design- 
er, engraver — a  restless,  unsettled,  capricious  man, 
whose  life  was  nothing  but  an  investigation,  a  trans- 
formation, a  perpetual  battle  with  his  vast  genius. 
As  a  young  man,  when  he  was  already  famous  as  a 
poet,  he  abandoned  the  Muse  and  entered  politics ; 
he  emigrated  with  the  stadtholder  to  England,  and 
gave  lessons  in  London  to  earn  a  livelihood.  He 
tired  of  England  and  -went  to  Germany ;  bored  by 
German  romanticism,  he  returned  to  Holland,  where 
Louis  Bonaparte  overwhelmed  him  with  favors.  When 
Louis  left  the  throne,  Napoleon  the  Great  deprived 
the  favorite  of  his   pension,   and  he  was  reduced   to 


THE  HAGUE.  207 

poverty.  Finally  lie  obtained  a  small  pension  from 
the  government,  and  continued  studying,  writing,  and 
struggling   to   the  last  day  of  his  life.       His  works 

Co  o  v 

embrace  more  than  thirty  volumes  of  science,  art, 
and  literature,  lie  tried  every  style,  and  succeeded 
in  all  excepting  the  dramatic.  lie  enlarged  historical 
criticism  by  writing  one  of  the  finest  national  his- 
tories his  country  possesses.  He  wrote  a  poem,  "  The 
Primitive  World,"  an  abstruse,  gloomy  composition 
which  is  very  much  admired  in  Holland.  He  dealt 
with  every  possible  question,  confounding  luminous 
truths  with  the  strangest  paradoxes.  He  even  raised 
the  national  literature,  which  had  fallen  into  deca- 
dence, and  left  a  phalanx  of  chosen  disciples  who  fol- 
lowed in  his  steps  in  politics,  art,  and  philosophy. 
Holland  regards  him  not  only  with  enthusiasm,  but 
with  fanaticism,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  after 
Yondel  he  is  the  greatest  poet  of  his  country. 
But  he  was  possessed  by  a  religious  frenzy,  a  blind 
hatred  of  new  ideas,  which  caused  him  to  make 
poetry  an  instrument  of  sects :  he  introduces  the- 
ology into  everything,  and  consequently  he  could 
not  attain  to  that  free  serene  region  beyond  which 
genius  cannot  obtain  enduring  victories  and  uni- 
versal fame. 

Round  these  three  poets,  who  represent  the  three 
vices  of  Dutch  literature — of  losing  themselves  in 
the  clouds,  of  creeping  on  the  ground,  of  entangling 
themselves  in  the  meshes  of  mysticism — are  grouped 


268  THE  HAGUE. 

a  number  of  epic,  comic,  satiric,  and  lyric  poets, 
most  of  whom  flourished  in  the  seventeenth  and  a 
few  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Many  of  them  are 
renowned  in  Holland,  but  none  possesses  sufficient 
originality  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  passing 
stranger. 

The  present  condition  deserves  a  rapid  glance. 
Criticism  by  stripping  from  Dutch  history  the  veil 
of  poetry  with  which  the  patriotism  of  writers  had 
clothed  it,  has  placed  it  on  the  wider  and  more 
productive  plain  of  justice.  Philological  studies  are 
held  in  high  honor  in  Holland,  and  almost  all  the 
sciences  are  represented  by  men  of  European  fame. 
These  are  facts  of  which  no  scholar  is  ignorant,  and  a 
bare  mention  of  them  is  sufficient. 

In  pure  literature  the  most  flourishing  style  is  the 
novel.  Holland  has  had  its  national  novelist,  its 
Walter  Scott,  in  Van  Lennep,  who  died  a  few  years 
ago,  a  writer  of  historical  romances  which  Avere  re- 
ceived with  enthusiasm  by  all  classes  of  society.  He 
was  an  effective  painter  of  customs,  a  learned,  witty 
writer,  and  a  master  of  the  art  of  dialogue  and  de- 
scription, but,  unfortunately,  often  prolix.  He  used 
old  artifices,  adopted  forced  solutions,  and  often  was 
not  sufficiently  reticent.  In  his  last  b:>ok,  "The  Ad- 
ventures of  Nicoletta  Zevenster,"  while  admirably  de- 
scribing Dutch  society  at  the  beginning  of  this  cen- 
tury, he  had  the  unheard-of  audacity  to  describe  an 
improper  house  at  the  Hague.     All  Holland  was  in 


THE  HAGUE.  2G9 

an  uproar.  His  book  was  discussed,  criticised,  con- 
demned, praised  to  the  skies,  and  the  battle  still  con- 
tinues. Other  historical  novels  were  written  by  a 
certain  Schimmel,  a  worthy  rival  of  Van  Lennep, 
and  by  a  Madame  Rosboon  Toussaint,  an  accom- 
plished author  of  deep  study  and  real  talent.  Nev- 
ertheless, historical  romance  may  be  considered  dead 
even  in  Holland.  The  modern-novels  of  social  life  and 
the  story  meet  with  better  fortune.  Most  prominent 
in  this  field  is  Beets,  a  Protestant  clergyman  and  a 
poet,  the  author  of  a  celebrated  book  entitled  "  The 
Dark  Chamber."  Koetsweldt  is  another  of  this  class, 
and  there  are  also  some  young  men  of  great  gifts 
who  have  been  prevented  from  rising  to  any  height 
by  haste,  the  demon  that  persecutes  the  literature  of 
to-day. 

Holland  has  still  another  kind  of  romance  which  is 
its  own.  It  might  be  called  Indian  romance,  since  it 
describes  the  habits  and  life  of  the  people  of  the 
colonies.  Of  late  years  several  novels  have  been  pub- 
lished in  this  style,  which  have  been  received  in  the 
country  with  great  applause  and  have  been  translated 
into  several  languages.  Among  these  is  the  "  Beau 
Monde  of  Batavia,"  by  Professor  Ten  Brink,  a 
learned,  and  brilliant  writer,  of  whom  I  should  like 
to  be  able  to  speak  at  length  to  attest  in  some  degree 
my  gratitude  and  admiration.  But  apropos  of  Indian 
romances,  it  is  pleasant  to  notice  how  in  Holland  at 
every  step  one  hears  and  sees  something  that  reminds 


270  THE  HAGUE. 

one  of  the  colonies,  as  if  a  ray  of  the  Indian  sun 
penetrated  the  Dutch  winter  and  colored  the  life. 
The  ships  which  bring  a  breath  of  wind  from  those 
distant  lands  to  the  home  ports,  the  birds,  the  flowers, 
the  countless  objects,  like  sounds  mingled  with  faint 
music,  call  up  in  the  mind  images  of  another  nature 
and  another  race.  In  the  cities  of  Holland,  among 
the  thousands  of  white  faces,  one  often  meets  men 
whose  visages  are  bronzed  by  the  sun,  who  have  been 
born  or  have  lived  for  many  years  in  the  colo- 
nies— merchants  who  speak  with  unusual  vivacity  of 
dark  women,  bananas,  palm  forests,  and  of  lakes 
shaded  by  vines  and  orchids ;  young  men  who  are 
bold  enough  to  risk  their  lives  amid  the  savages  of 
the  islands  of  Borneo  and  Sumatra ;  men  of  science 
and  men  of  letters;  officers  who  speak  of  the  tribes 
which  worship  fish,  of  ambassadors  who  carry  the 
heads  of  the  vanquished  dangling  from  their  girdles, 
of  bull  and  tiger  fights,  of  the  frenzy  of  opium- 
eaters,  of  the  multitudes  baptized  with  pomp,  of  a 
thousand  strange  and  wonderful  incidents  which  pro- 
duce a  singular  effect  when  related  by  the  phlegmatic 
people  of  this  peaceful  country. 

Poetry,  after  it  lost  Da  Costa,  a  disciple  of  Bilder- 
dijk,  a  religious  poet  and  enthusiast,  and  Genestet,  a 
satirical  poet  who  died  very  young,  had  few  cham- 
pions in  the  last  generation,  and  these  are  now  silent 
or  sing  with  enfeebled  voice.  The  stage  is  in  a  worse 
condition.       The    untrained,    ranting    Dutch    actors 


THE  HAGUE.  271 

usually  appear  only  in  French  or  German  dramas, 
comedies  which  are  badly  translated,  and  the  best 
society  does  not  go  to  see  them.  Writers  of  great 
talent,   like   Hofdijk,    Schimmel,   and  Van    Lennep, 

wrote  comedies  which  were  admirable  in  many  ways, 
but  they  never  became  popular  enough  to  hold  the 
stage.  Tragedy  is  in  no  better  condition  than  comedy 
and  the  drama. 

From  what  I  have  said  it  would  appear  that  there 
is  not  at  present  any  great  literary  movement  in  Hol- 
land ;  but  on  the  contrary,  there  is  great  literary  ac- 
tivity. The  number  of  books  published  is  incredible, 
and  it  is  marvellous  with  what  avidity  they  are  read. 
Every  town,  every  religious  sect,  every  society,  has 
its  review  or  newspaper.  Besides  this,  there  is  a  mul- 
titude of  foreign  books :  English  novels  are  in  the 
hands  of  all ;  French  works  of  eight,  ten,  and  twenty 
volumes  are  translated  into  the  national  lan^ua^e. 
This  is  the  more  remarkable  in  a  country  where  all  cul- 
tivated people  can  read  the  originals,  and  it  proves  how 
customary  it  is  not  only  to  read,  but  to  buy,  although 
books  are  a  great  deal  more  expensive  in  Holland 
than  elsewhere.  But  this  superabundance  of  publi- 
cations and  this  thirst  for  reading  are  precisely  those 
elements  which  are  injuring  literature.  Writers,  in 
order  to  satisfy  the  impatient  curiosity  of  the  public, 
write  in  too  great  haste,  and  the  mania  for  foreign 
literature  smothers  and  corrupts  the  national  genius. 
Nevertheless,  Dutch  literature  has  still  a  just  claim 


272  THE  HAGUE. 

to  the  esteem  of  the  country :  it  has  declined,  but 
has  not  become  perverted ;  it  has  preserved  its  inno- 
cence and  freshness  ;  what  is  lacking  in  imagination, 
originality,  and  brilliancy  is  compensated  by  wisdom, 
by  the  severe  respect  for  good  manners  and  good 
taste,  by  loving  solicitude  for  the  poorer  classes,  by 
the  effective  energy  with  which  it  advances  charity 
and  civil  education.  The  literatures  of  other  lands 
are  great  plants  adorned  with  fragrant  flowers ;  Dutch 
literature  is  a  little  tree  laden  with  fruit. 

On  the  morning  when  I  left  the  Hague,  after  my 
second  visit  to  the  city,  some  of  my  good  friends 
accompanied  me  to  the  railway-station.  It  was  rain- 
ing. When  we  were  in  the  waiting-room,  before  the 
train  started,  I  thanked  my  kind  hosts  for  the  cour- 
teous reception  they  had  given  me,  and,  knowing  that 
perhaps  I  should  never  see  them  again,  I  could  not 
help  expressing  my  gratitude  in  sad  and  affectionate 
words,  to  which  they  listened  in  silence.  Only  one 
interrupted  me  by  advising  me  to  guard  against  the 
damp. 

"  I  hope  at  least  some  of  you  will  come  to  Italy," 
I  continued,  "  if  only  to  give  me  the  opportunity  of 
showing  my  gratitude.  Do  promise  me  this,  so  that 
I  may  feel  a  little  consoled  at  my  departure.  I  will 
not  leave  if  some  one  does  not  say  he  will  come  to 
Italy." 

They  looked  into  each  other's  faces,  and  one  an- 
swered laconically,  tfc  Perhaps."    Another  advised  me 


THE  HAGUE.  273 

not  to  change  French  gold  in  the  shops.  At  that 
moment  the  last  bell  rang. 

"  Well,  then,  good-bye,"  I  said  in  an  agitated 
voice,  pressing  their  hands.  "  Farewell :  I  shall 
never  forget  the  glorious  days  passed  at  the  Hague; 
I  shall  always  recall  your  names  as  the  dearest  re- 
membrance of  my  journey.    Think  of  me  sometimes." 

"  Good-bye,"  they  all  answered  in  the  same  tone, 
as  if  they  were  expecting  to  see  me  the  next  day. 
I  leaped  into  the  railway-carriage  stricken  at  heart, 
and  looked  out  of  the  window  until  the  train  started, 
and  saw  them  all  standing  there,  motionless,  silent 
with  impassive  faces,  their  eyes  fixed  on  mine.  I 
waved  a  last  farewell,  and  they  responded  with  a 
slight  bend  of  the  head,  and  then  disappeared  from 
my  sight  for  ever.  Whenever  I  think  of  them  I 
see  them  just  as  they  were  when  I  left  them,  in 
the  same  attitude,  with  their  serious  faces  and  fixed 
eyes,  and  the  affection  that  I  feel  for  them  has  in  it 
something  of  austerity  and  sadness  like  their  native 
skv  on  the  day  when  I  last  beheld  them. 


THE    END    OF    VOLUME   I. 


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